That was the second time he had been hurt—second time since regression—and both by Kyle.
"Heal!" Greg barked in dragon tongue. He gnawed down on his frustration, his teeth clenched hard. The pain didn't enrage him—it focused him. Anger would only play into Kyle's hands, and he refused to be manipulated.
Kyle watched him with a smirk, eyes gleaming with sinister excitement. Then he lunged forward with surgical precision. His claw slashed through the air—blocked cleanly by Greg's blade—but he followed up with a sudden spinning kick. Greg twisted his upper body back, narrowly avoiding the blow. Kyle didn't stop; his wings kept him aloft as he spun again, reversing midair, head now facing down. With both claws stretched forward like a skydiver, he dropped toward Greg in a vicious dive meant to impale.
