Marcus did not wait for a signal.
He did not offer a countdown or a formal start. He simply attacked.
His figure blurred, his Fallen Winged Bloodline activating with a surge of wind and darkness energy. He became a streak of silver and black—a shadow given form, a nightmare given speed. The wind howled around him, not resisting his passage but carrying him, augmenting his movements as though he were the king of the sky.
He possessed no wings—and yet, the feathers that appeared on parts of his body were ancient and exquisite, shimmering with a dark, iridescent light. They were vestiges of the Sariel Clan's fallen angel lineage.
His moniker as the Speed Demon was not for show.
He arrived before August in less than three seconds.
