Just as Rosha's boot crushed the neck of the last Slaanesh Beast, with the echo of snapping bones still humming in the air—
The space behind him, that patch of void where only the purple force field faintly rippled, suddenly warped.
Like a pond disturbed by a stone, that hunched, twisted, deep-purple figure "surfaced" from it without warning.
No transition, no trajectory—pure teleportation that defiled the laws of physics.
The sinister purple blade on its left arm was already raised. The instant it appeared, the weapon swept into a vicious diagonal slash, silent and so fast it became a single purple line, aimed straight at the seam in Rosha's spinal armor beneath his power pack!
Rosha's combat instincts screamed at the last possible moment.
He did not even have time to think. His body moved before his mind.
A thousandth of a second before the blade touched ceramite, he violently twisted his waist, wrenching his massive body sideways as fast as he could!
"Screech!"
The energy blade scraped the edge of his pack. It failed to cut all the way through, but plowed a trench into the heavy armored casing, deep enough to expose the conduits inside, its edges scorched black and molten.
The acrid smells of Ozone and melted metal instantly filled the air. The tremendous impact sent Rosha stumbling a step forward, his armor's servo system shrieking under the strain.
But he used the momentum of his stumble. As he fell, his left hand instinctively snatched up something beside his foot—half a hardwood stool leg, smeared with blood.
Without looking back, he poured every scrap of strength left in his arm into a vicious backward swing toward the enemy he sensed behind him!
The movement was crude and untrained, but carried the desperate violence of a cornered beast.