The remaining soldiers charged.
Not five. Not twelve. Twenty-three men, the full garrison, poured from every corridor. Some wore armor. Some wore furs. Some were bare-chested, their muscles scarred and painted with war marks. They came with axes, hammers, swords, maces, and bare fists.
Cruxius took his hands out of his pockets.
The first man reached him—a hammer-wielder, his swing wide and powerful. Cruxius caught the hammer head in his palm. Kinetic Control absorbed the full force of the impact. The energy traveled up his arm, through his chest, and out his other hand as a concentrated lance of pure force. The lance hit the hammer-wielder in the chest. His ribs caved inward. He flew backward, hitting three men behind him, all four crashing into the far wall.
He moved.
