Ethan felt the surge of new power thrumming under his skin, like cold lightning weaving through
his veins. The name of his freshly acquired skill burned across his mind in searing white letters:
Shadow Chain Strike.
He stood in the wreckage of the dungeon chamber, chest heaving, blood dripping from a cut
above his eyebrow.
The sharp scent of stone dust and iron filled the air, mingling with the faint glow of crimson light bleeding from fractures overhead.
I have to handle this carefully… he thought, wiping his mouth. If I fall, Daniel and Reyna… they're
dead for sure.
He glanced over his shoulder at his friends. Daniel lay slumped against a fallen pillar, eyes shut,
chest barely moving. Reyna sprawled face-down on cracked marble, her red hair soaked with
sweat and blood, one trembling hand just inches from her longsword.
Damn it… hang in there, both of you.
A low laugh rippled through the chamber.
