Looking at all the carnage around him, the third simply laughed. "How the hell do you have this sort of godly blood manipulation skills when you are barely a couple of decades old?" He simply stood amidst the bloodbath, not giving a fuck about any of his teammates dying.
Many blood lances shot forward, aiming at him as well, but somehow his form shimmered and every one of them passed right through him.
Damon frowned. He couldn't quite grasp the technique the guy was using, but for now, he simply continued with the massacre.
More and more black-robed men appeared, crawling out of shadows, rising from dunes, slipping in from every which corner, but they were all greeted by one lance or the other. Damon was already aiming at them.
His head barely moved. His expression didn't change. But each new assassin who dared set foot in the circle around him had a lance materialize directly above their skull, descending with the promise of a merciless death.
