I was injured more from my last attack than the phantom. The deep gash on my bicep and the tear in my shoulder still throbbed, but I could feel my Essence repairing my flesh almost instantly.
Even the scorched marks on the phantom's black armor seemed to smooth out as the deathmist within its domain churned and reformed it.
I stepped back, taking a moment to assess. My lungs drew in a slow, heavy breath, and I could feel the pulse of the battlefield in every ounce of my being.
Yet, the thing that impressed me wasn't the deathmist, nor its monstrous size, it was how calm it looked. The phantom floated effortlessly, completely uninjured, as if nothing had happened.
'What kind of ridiculous thing did the Eternals create?' I muttered to myself, gripping my staff tighter.
