[Third Person's POV]
[Location: Central Park, New York]
Dominic looked at the gaping hole in his shoulder, blood streaming out from where the spear tip had been buried only moments before. The crimson trail ran down his arm, soaking into the black fabric, hissing faintly where droplets struck Muramasa's cursed steel. Pain flared hot, sharp, but his lips twisted into that same crooked grin, more feral than wounded.
Artemis's bow lowered slightly, her silver eyes narrowing as she took in the sight. She had fought beside countless warriors, bled with them, watched them fall—but the way Dominic stood there, unbowed despite the gaping wound, was something else. It was not defiance born of stubborn pride—it was willpower weaponised, forged into an aura that wrapped around him like a crown.
