Damien hissed through clenched teeth as his fingers clamped down on the wound.
Warm.
Too warm.
Blood seeped through his grip, thick and fast. His shoulder throbbed with each beat of his heart, the pain sharpening into clarity.
It hadn't just grazed him.
It sliced.
Clean. Intentional.
'Something's hunting me.'
He forced himself to move—pivoting, scanning, every muscle tight and ready to coil. But there was nothing.
No movement.
No sound.
No predator lunging from the shadows.
Just silence.
Flat. Open. Endless.
Then—
SWOOSH.
Another strike—same side.
The edge cut deeper this time, cleaving into the muscle just below the original wound.
Damien staggered, nearly dropping to one knee.
'Shit—too fast!'
He didn't see it.
Didn't sense it.
Not a flicker in the air, not a shimmer of mana displacement. His body—his enhanced, refined body—had no warning.
No twitch. No tension. Just pain.
SWOOSH.
Again.
But this time, Damien moved.
Not by instinct.
By choice.
