The first wind construct hit hard. Harder than she expected.
Grace went flying. Her back slammed into rock hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. Pain shot through her spine.
It was mainly the surprise that made the hit so painful, but still, she realized she needed to be careful.
She rolled sideways just as the construct's fist shattered stone where her head had been. Rock fragments peppered her face.
"Ow! Fuck!"
Her blade swept up in a desperate arc. Golden light met angry wind.
The construct exploded like a violent sneeze. Air scattered in every direction, whipping her hair into her eyes. She pushed it back, squinting through the chaos.
The scattered wind was already pulling back together ten feet away.
[Of course they regenerate. Why wouldn't they regenerate?]
Three more constructs charged from different angles. Their faces—if those swirling voids could be called faces—looked personally offended by her existence.
