The fight was raging like wildfire in the dark forest path. Moonlight flickered through the trees, casting pale glows across blood-soaked leaves and broken twigs. The eerie sound of chains clashing with weapons and cries of madness filled the air.
Vic had taken a defensive stance, his breathing heavy and legs sliding across the dirt from the impact of another chain strike.
The woman in front of him—wild-eyed, grinning, with ragged hair and torn robes looked like something born out of a nightmare.
Her chain was long and gleaming, blackened with some twisted energy. Whenever it touched something, it hissed, eating into life force. Vic's left arm already bore a burn where it had grazed him, draining his strength and spreading a cold numbness.
"You're so slow," the woman giggled. Her voice was cracked and high-pitched, like glass scraping against stone. "So dull. Are you even worth the choir?"
Vic didn't respond apparently but screamed inwardly.
