The boy drew his sword again just as he had finished putting it down. It was obvious he felt the pressure from the fight, his face was covered with a light sheen of sweat, and his birdlike chest heaved with effort. He hopped back, brandishing the blade, when like before the tendril of light sprouted from the thief's shoulder, gripping the handle. It instead of slicing the bullets, it made a circular motion, projecting a disc of light that stopped most of the pellets.
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