Chapter 86: French Woman are Built Different
The last of the Antmen fell in silence.
Their bodies dropped to the ground like shocked flies, severed and crumpled like broken toys scattered across the cavern floor. Blood slicked the stone, and bits of carapace twitched uselessly, confused by death that came too quickly to understand.
Soon after, Clara began to hover back in the air as she made her way back to Adam, who was just floating there as her bone blades retracted with soft, wet sounds into her wrists, leaving behind only pale, unmarked skin. Her additional limbs crumbled like dried leaves, folding back into her body as if they had never existed.
She landed gently in front of him, her feet touching stone with not a sound.
Meanwhile, Adam stayed afloat, meeting her eyes, as Clara began to do a knightly bow, while saying as such.
"All enemies have been slaughtered, mon maître."
Her voice was as calm and neutral...unbothered even, as if she had merely finished sweeping a hallway.
Adam blinked at her. Slowly. A thousand-yard stare trying to process whatever war crime of physics he had just witnessed.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again...
His words not leaving...then he tried one more time.
And this time, he managed to speak his mind.