Sael had fought destroyers before, but he had never fought a devilish destroyer alone.
And certainly never in conditions this disadvantageous.
The monster's jaw unhinged, wider than physically possible, and exhaled.
Black mist poured from its mouth like oil smoke, thick and unnatural. It spread across the ground, creeping toward his feet with deliberate slowness… too deliberate, too controlled. Where it touched his light arrow's glow, the illumination hissed—a sound like water on hot iron—and died.
Sael fired immediately. The light arrow screamed across the chamber, guided by perfect accuracy and Northern's shadow bow's autonomous targeting. The shot was clean, the trajectory flawless. It should have struck center mass.
The arrow passed through empty darkness.
The Stalker had already moved.
