As the dust cleared, the Blightlord frowned in anger. The attack… had missed Blaze. Even his tendrils were intact.
The cultists were in disbelief. The hammer was an artefact they created after sacrificing hundreds of humans. It was the ultimate weapon, yet there wasn't a single scratch on Blaze.
"Something is off," the acolyte mumbled, watching the fight from a distance. "The attack was perfect. It's appropriate to say the zombie disappeared from its spot, rather than dodged the strike."
Those around the acolyte wondered if he had lost his mind. Yes, teleportation existed, but it took time and preparation. No one could disappear and reappear at the same spot within a fraction of a second.
Yet, in the back of their minds, they couldn't help but think he was correct. Even if Blaze's tendrils protected him, how come his clothes were intact? The just force of the swing should have ripped those off.
"How are you still alive?!" the Blightlord blurted out.
