Discs he’d been expecting. Staves, sabers - all updated versions of his own weapons, dispatched easily enough.
The new controller had talent, but no dedication.
He’d backed him down into a corner. The new, dark armor seemed to be working well enough; intimidation was the key, of course.
The other’s face contorted in rage, though Sark didn’t know why. Deresolution was imminent for those unable to perform their duties. He raised his disc and—
The ground flung him aside, shock coursing through him like pain.
He hadn’t expected programming.