Suddenly, the killing intent returned with the force of a tidal wave. Without hesitation, Ethan threw himself to the ground, but this time he didn't just dodge. As he fell, he pivoted his body and swung his forearm upward, aiming for the space where a lunging attacker would be.
CLANG.
His arm hit something solid—something that felt like cold, vibrating steel. A spray of blood painted the air as a hidden blade sliced deep into Ethan's forearm. He rolled away, clutching his arm, which was now bleeding profusely.
The blood from his wound didn't just fall to the ground; some of it splattered onto an invisible shape in front of him. For a fleeting second, the red mist outlined the silhouette of a tall, slender figure standing less than three meters away.
"So, you can feel me," the voice said, sounding amused. "But feeling me isn't the same as stopping me."
