The man didn't hesitate.
He lunged again, faster this time, dagger crackling faintly with corrupted mana. It was now glaringly clear which side he belonged to. The cult, just as Damien had thought.
Damien sighed. "Wrong target."
Luton surged forward. The slime moved like liquid shadow.
Before the cultist could react, Luton expanded explosively, splitting into thick tendrils that wrapped around the man's wrists and ankles. The dagger clattered uselessly to the ground as his limbs were yanked apart mid-motion.
"Arghhhh!!" The cultist screamed.
Luton lifted him off the ground, suspending him in the air, limbs stretched outward, his body held aloft like a grotesque crucifix.
The Stellar Slime didn't crush him, it absorbed just enough to immobilize, tendrils partially sinking into flesh and clothing, holding him firmly in place.
Damien stood slowly, brushing dirt from his gloves.
"You picked a bad moment," he said calmly. "I was hungry."
The cultist laughed.
