Kain felt as though he was being dipped into lava, then dragged back out again as Aegis pounced on the Blood Flame Hound to distract it away from using his ability on Kain.
The pain in his shoulder was raw and burning, but worse was the sensation creeping into his soul—a soul-burn, subtle and corrosive.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
Something shifted in the air. A low hum built up like static in his bones. Kain turned, and his breath caught. The Slagbeast was no longer just twitching. Its bloody body had begun to vibrate. Thin threads of blood were rising from the ground, and his shirt—no, not from the arena. From him.
His blood.
The droplets from his wounded shoulder, barely congealed on the fabric of his uniform and ground, were being pulled toward the Slagbeast's open ribcage. They floated unnaturally, drawn like needles to a magnet, condensing into slender red needles in mid-air. They trembled for a moment, then began accelerating toward the beast's mouth.
