Suddenly, like a whisper across the still battlefield, a small shadow flickered above the carcass-littered forest floor.
It moved so fast, it was almost invisible—a blur of black, glinting faintly as if dipped in starlight.
In the blink of an eye, the shadow descended like a falling feather, landing directly atop the head of the lone octopus-headed creature standing guard before the carriage. No warning, no sound.
Then—shlkk!—a slick, almost elegant slicing noise broke the tension.
A slender blade, narrow as a shard of obsidian, embedded itself between the creature's abyssal eyes, sinking in so cleanly that for a second, it seemed the monster didn't notice.
Then, like a reverse heartbeat, the blade zipped backward, vanishing into the carriage's darkness before anyone could catch more than a glimmer.
The octopus-headed creature shuddered.
And then, to Varros' stunned disbelief—it fell.
But not like before.
