“Three Delayed Blows.”

  PUUUUUUUUMMMMM.

  The impact was so brutal, so savage, so inhuman that the roar resembled thunder tearing through a stormy night.

  Alexander’s right arm sank so deeply into the Daimonas’s body that it was nearly impossible to tell where his fist ended and his shoulder began.

  He struggled to breathe… but he had done it.

  The Daimonas gave in to the pain.

  “ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR.”

  TUUUUUUUUUM.

  A circular shockwave burst outward from the point of impact. The Daimonas was hurled several meters away, suspended in midair by the sheer violence of the blow, before crashing into the inner walls of the village.

  TUUUUUUUUUM.

  A second shockwave erupted from the same wound, far wider than the first. The Daimonas accelerated even further, smashed through the wall, and plunged into the forest, rebounding against the ground as it tore trees apart in its path.

  TUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM.

  Finally, the third shockwave detonated.

  It was the most devastating of all.

  The Daimonas was flung far into the distance, tearing through trees uncontrollably like a mass of flesh thrown with overwhelming force, leaving a trail of destruction behind.

  Spinning.

  Bouncing.

  Unable to stop.

  “VALENTINA, THIS IS THE MOMENT!” Alexander shouted, his voice torn raw. “FINISH YOUR SPELL AND LET’S KILL IT ONCE AND FOR ALL!”

  Without wasting a second, Alexander plunged into the forest, following the path of devastation the Daimonas had carved through the land.

  ? ? ?

  Ugh… reinforcing myself beyond one hundred five percent is too much.

  Alexander ran at full speed, charging through the churned earth and the fallen trees left behind by the Daimonas’s forced displacement. But as he pushed through the devastation, his body began to demand payment for having surpassed those limits.

  Suddenly, he clenched his eyes shut and his lips twisted into a grimace of pain. As his right leg struck the ground, a brutal stab exploded in his quadriceps, spreading like relentless punishment.

  He nearly stopped.

  But he ground his teeth so hard it felt as if he were biting down on something invisible, then took another step… and another, never slowing down.

  He continued like that for several minutes, every sense pushed to its limit. After all, he was facing a Daimonas, and underestimating one was the worst mistake anyone could make.

  It’s in this area.

  He ignored the blood still streaming from his nose and the corner of his lips. At least the bloody tears had stopped. Even so, his body screamed louder with every passing second.

  This is where the trail of destruction ends. I need to stay alert.

  He fixed his gaze forward, focusing all his senses ahead.

  I don’t know if it’s fully regenerated… hopefully not. If it hasn’t, I can hold it here until Valentina finishes her spell.

  His steps halted when he spotted a pile of massive fallen trees. Beneath them, the Daimonas’s head writhed in pain as it struggled to free itself. The trunks rose and fell with the spasms of the vile hellborn spawn, which thrashed like a legless worm trying to crawl forward.

  But it couldn’t.

  “Hellspawn trash… this is exactly what you deserve,” Alexander spat, watching it with a mixture of contempt and infinite disgust. “All of you—peerless murderers—deserve nothing but death.”

  “ROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR.”

  “That’s right, suffer, scum…” He clenched his fists tightly. “Feel the weight of all the deaths you caused… and the fury of my friends… the ones you killed…”

  A thick, nauseating drool—if it could even be called that—dripped from the Daimonas’s mouth, contaminating that small fragment of Kosmos. The creature was truly damaged; part of its interior was exposed, emerging from its abdomen—more precisely, from that massive, broken mouth that occupied the place of its stomach.

  “I truly hope this hurts you… a lot.” He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. “Because that’s the only thing your kind deserves: pain and extinction.”

  The Daimonas’s long neck stretched upward, rising like a defiant serpent. Even in such a deplorable state, it still yearned to devour him.

  “It’s useless talking to you…” Alexander once again wrapped himself in blazing magical energy. “Filth like you can’t even utter a single miserable word. It’s only a matter of time before you finally perish.”

  “Fire Elemental Magic: Fire Projectiles.”

  The spell was launched upward, and in a single release, at least ten fiery projectiles became visible. They rose first like flares, illuminating a path already doomed to darkness.

  Once they reached their peak, the fire projectiles began their descent toward their target—the Daimonas.

  Alexander took several steps back, ignoring the pain screaming through his body and the exhaustion already crushing him. All of his attention remained fixed on that hated enemy.

  “This is what you deserve for messing with Gignit… suffer…”

  BOOOOOOM.

  BOOOOOOM.

  BOOOOOOM.

  The explosions roared violently. Flames spread across the Daimonas’s body, over the fallen trees, and throughout wide sections of the forest. Fire crawled outward, slow and relentless, dyeing the world in red—as if reality itself were burning.

  Even from a considerable distance, Alexander felt his face scorch. Sweat streamed down his skin, mixing with the blood already beginning to dry.

  “This should stop it…” he murmured, raising a hand to shield his face. “At least for a while… I just hope Valentina hurries up… ugh…”

  His body punished him mercilessly once again.

  All because he had exceeded his limits.

  “I’m running out of time… and strength…” He grabbed his head with one hand. “Daimonas really are absurdly resilient… Valentina, I need you to hurry… my body is already giving in…”

  FUUUUUUUSSSSSS.

  Alexander’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  The debris pinning the Daimonas down—and the flames born from his spell—vanished into nothingness, swallowed by a black explosion that erupted at the center of the devastation.

  Suddenly, a nauseating, revolting aura began to rise from the ground—more precisely, from beneath the Daimonas’s body.

  But this time, it was different.

  That mephitic aura of daimoniac miasma was far darker. More macabre. More perverse. As it accumulated and grew denser, an unbearable sensation of imminent death saturated that vile energy.

  Alexander stood almost catatonic, staring at that impossible miasma, feeling the atrocity of being so close to it seep into his skin.

  His eyes threatened to burst from their sockets.

  The diabolical sensation was so overwhelming it felt as if his flesh were burning—inside and out. Yet he was so absorbed, so utterly seized by terror, that he could barely process it.

  “What… what does this mean…?” he murmured, more to the world than to himself, as if hoping something—or someone—might answer.

  But that wasn’t the worst part.

  “It can’t be… is it really going to do it right now…?”

  The miasma swelled to a monstrous scale, devouring all light around it. The shattered body of the Daimonas had already vanished within that absolute darkness.

  Only the deformed, horrible, diabolical skull remained visible.

  And that completely destroyed eye—from which a liquid still dripped, so corrosive to Kosmos—focused on Alexander. It did so without the need for an eyeball.

  That alone was enough.

  The Lord of Gignit felt his soul ignite. That eyeless gaze was so unnatural, so terrifying, that it pierced the deepest core of his existence, as if something were trying to tear him apart from the inside.

  Fear. Panic. Absolute terror.

  They seized him all at once.

  His legs faltered, turning liquid beneath him, just as the mouths embedded in the skull’s sockets curved into a macabre smile. So grotesque. So impossible. Alexander felt his heart hover one beat away from stopping.

  The miasma continued to grow—this time without restraint—until even the head itself began to fade within that living darkness.

  And just as it was about to disappear completely…

  Those mouths moved.

  Alexander felt his eardrums violently assaulted by a sound no existence in Kosmos was ever meant to hear. A sound that, once heard, could bring only pain.

  ?Το σωμα σου, η ψυχη σου, η ζωη σου και η ζωη ολων των τεκνων του φωτο? θα γινουν τροφη για αυτη τη σκοτεινη ευλογια. Τεκνα του φωτο?, θα γινετε θυσιε? και θα προσφερθειτε στη κακια.?

  The Daimonas spoke.

  Blood began to pour from Alexander’s ears—and that was only one of the consequences of hearing that voice. So unnatural. So blasphemous. So sacrilegious. Its unspeakable words were soaked in violence, malice, and death.

  Alexander began to drool.

  His mind abandoned him completely, incapable of processing anything beyond that skull that continued to look at him.

  Smiling.

  And once again, impossible words spilled from those filthy mouths.

  ?Ολοι θα αφανιστουν στο ονομα του Κακου.?

  Bleeghhh.

  The miasma surged upward toward the skies, wounding Kosmos with its mere existence. Alexander bent forward and, finally unable to endure it, vomited everything that still remained in his stomach.

  ? ? ?

  “What…?”

  Rachell stopped dead in her tracks, as if her own body had refused to obey her any further. Her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, showing no sign of stopping.

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  Her skin prickled like that of a porcupine. Even the simple act of breathing became heavy—an exhausting effort just to draw air into her lungs.

  And her face went pale.

  She didn’t understand what was happening, nor what could possibly be causing it, but her instincts—her very spirit—were screaming a single, desperate warning:

  Something terrible is about to happen.

  So, clutching Diana tightly in her arms, she lifted her gaze forward, and an indescribable sense of dread wrapped around her chest like a tightening vice. Everyone who was marching—without a single exception—was in the exact same state.

  “Do you feel that?” she heard the guard carrying the children ask the others.

  “Yes… my legs won’t stop shaking. It’s hard to breathe, and I feel…” another replied, hesitating.

  “Fear?” a third finished. “Something very bad is happening to Lord Alexander and the others… right?”

  The guard turned around abruptly, looking back toward the battlefield.

  In that instant, an icy sweat ran down his spine—so vile, so horrifying, that his breathing broke into spasms.

  The others followed his gaze.

  And they froze.

  And not only them.

  One by one, everyone began to turn their heads, compelled by something they couldn’t explain—as if a primal instinct were forcing them to look into the distance.

  And when they did…

  Every single one of them stopped moving.

  Rachell was the only one who didn’t turn immediately. She remained watching the others, trying to understand what was happening. They were strange—too still—with their faces locked in expressions of pure, naked terror.

  Then her own instincts betrayed her.

  Or perhaps it wasn’t instinct at all.

  Perhaps it was invisible hands forcing her to turn—forcing her neck to move, forcing her gaze to align with everyone else’s.

  Slowly, her head turned.

  Then her torso followed.

  And when she finally saw what they were all staring at—

  Her spirit left her body for a single, eternal instant.

  Bloody tears poured from her eyes.

  Before her rose a gigantic pillar of miasma, climbing endlessly into the heavens.

  Never in her life had she felt fear like this. Not even when she saw the Daimonas arrive at Gignit. That infinite torrent of daimoniac miasma rising into the sky filled her with more terror than every hell she had ever faced.

  “I’m going to die…”

  And then she saw it.

  Her husband.

  Her children.

  Herself.

  All of them lying on the ground like unrecognizable trash.

  Dead.

  Her own mind turned against her, assaulting her with visions that had never happened—

  …but that could happen.

  “M-Mommy…”

  The visions shattered and vanished in an instant.

  Rachell felt her hands again.

  Felt her feet. Every strand of her hair. Her own body—

  —and above all, her daughter in her arms.

  She lowered her gaze.

  Diana—completely unconscious—was crying tears of blood, soaking her mother’s clothes.

  That was enough.

  That alone tore her free from that infernal trance.

  “LET’S GO!” she screamed with all the strength she had left, with such desperation that her throat felt as if it were tearing apart. “WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW! THIS PLACE IS DANGEROUS!”

  For the briefest instant, Christopher opened his eyes.

  He couldn’t distinguish anyone. He wasn’t truly conscious. But when he did, his irises shone with their characteristic green hue, stark against the intense white of his sclera.

  “LET’S GOOOOOOO!”

  Rachell screamed again.

  And this time, it was different.

  Something in her voice pierced through the terror that had them trapped. Something primal. Commanding. Real.

  At last, everyone seemed to regain control of their bodies.

  “FOLLOW ME! WE HAVE TO HURRY!” she cried, her voice breaking with urgency.

  Without stopping, she handed her daughter to one of the guards, who received Diana without hesitation.

  “THIS WAY LEADS TO THE PORTAL ZONE!” Rachell continued, pointing ahead. “ONCE WE’RE THERE, WE CAN GO DOWN—AND WE’LL BE MUCH SAFER!”

  No one cheered.

  No one celebrated.

  It was impossible… and it didn’t matter anyway.

  Now that their bodies had been freed, they were finally able to run.

  And this time, they ran with brutal urgency—with a desperate freedom that bordered on pure, instinctive flight.

  They fled.

  At least for the moment, they had managed to shake off the trance imposed by the mephitic miasma that still continued to rise into the heavens—

  like an open wound carved into Kosmos itself.

  ? ? ?

  Alexander vomited a couple more times before, once again, forcing himself to focus his gaze on that torrent of daemonic energy—the miasma—that rose into the heavens like a dark, endless, impenetrable tower.

  He frowned and clenched his teeth so hard that, with just a little more pressure, they would have cracked.

  His body began to tremble.

  But not from fear.

  It was rage.

  Pure, violent frustration.

  He slammed his fists into the ground again and again. Each impact made the earth groan, opening small cracks beneath his hands as his fury spilled over. Heavy, salty tears followed—tears born of anger, not sorrow.

  Then, suddenly, he stopped.

  His shoulders slumped.

  Exhausted. Wounded. Nearly empty of strength.

  All he could do was remain there, kneeling, staring at that macabre, malignant torrent that continued to rise without end.

  “I couldn’t stop it…” he murmured, his voice broken, almost defeated. “In the end… it succeeded… That monster is finally going to become a Lord Daimonas.”

  I don’t know what to do…

  The thought pierced him like a blade as hopelessness—and the urge to give up—wrapped tightly around his heart.

  BOOOOOOOOOM.

  It wasn’t an explosion.

  It was a shockwave.

  A brutal pressure erupted from the base of the daemonic miasma torrent and struck Alexander head-on. Lacking the strength to resist it, he was hurled several meters backward, rolling violently across the ground until he finally came to a stop after several turns.

  He groaned, struggling immensely to recover.

  “That surge… it came from the center of the miasma…” he said aloud, as the accumulated pain of the battle crashed into him all at once. “I can feel it… a disgusting magical energy is concentrating there.”

  With immense effort, he managed to stand and lift his gaze.

  Before his eyes, the pillar of miasma began to shrink. Gradually, it lost its thickness, growing smaller and denser by the second.

  Alexander was utterly exhausted.

  Then—

  Another surge erupted from the base.

  This time, it didn’t catch him off guard.

  He thrust both arms forward, crossing them to shield himself, and managed to halt the advance of the shockwave with his forearms. The pain was searing—burning into his bones—but his face did not show an ordinary grimace of suffering.

  It showed something far worse.

  Absolute despair.

  “Its power… its magical energy… I can feel it…” he whispered, slowly lowering his arms.

  The daimonic miasma vortex was no longer a pillar.

  Now, it had condensed into a black sphere—darker than night, more malevolent than the very concept of evil itself.

  “It’s increased… tremendously…” His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he stared at it. “How… how are we supposed to defeat something like this…?”

  The sphere floated there, suspended in the air.

  Never touching the ground.

  It was as if an infinitesimal fragment of the abyss itself had risen into the earthly plane.

  There—where that sphere hovered just a few centimeters above the ground—light and hope were being devoured.

  The gleam in Alexander’s eyes seemed to fade, swallowed whole by the presence of that impossible darkness.

  Almost in a trance, he stared at the source of his likely death.

  Then it happened.

  As if made of fragile crystal, a tiny crack appeared on the surface of the sphere. And from it, something impossible began to seep out—a truly dark glow.

  Another crack appeared.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Each one larger than the last.

  The entire sphere began to fracture, like a jet-black glass orb on the verge of shattering, while that unnatural glow continued to escape.

  Alexander’s eyes flew wide open.

  Shock.

  Panic.

  Terror.

  He staggered several steps backward, unable to believe what he was seeing.

  Because from those cracks, darkness was no longer leaking out.

  Now blood was.

  So much blood.

  It streamed through the countless fissures, dripping onto the ground in thick drops and small cascades, soaking parts of Kosmos with that carmine, corrupted liquid that belonged to the Daimonas.

  This wasn’t a simple dark evolution.

  It was a ritual.

  A summoning ritual for something that should never—ever—set foot in this world.

  The metallic stench of iron filled the air, turning the simple act of breathing into a living hell.

  And finally—after a wait that was both brief and eternal at the same time—

  The sphere shattered.

  Crish. Crack.

  All the blood contained within the black sphere exploded in every direction, drenching the surroundings in a horrifying crimson veil.

  Alexander shut his eyes for an instant, disgusted, as he felt that nauseating, metallic-smelling blood splatter across his body as well. But more than revulsion, what showed on his face was deep panic—a crushing, absolute sensation that squeezed his chest tight.

  The Daimonas was finally released from the black sphere.

  And with that, a crushing terror spread toward the four cardinal directions.

  His eyes, his body, and even his very spirit trembled before what stood before him.

  “Is this… is this a Lord Daimonas…?”

  He whispered it to himself, horrified, as he contemplated that profane, sacrilegious appearance.

  Its form, its presence, its very existence were the purest embodiment of the concept of antithesis.

  The antithesis of the majestic.

  The antithesis of the beautiful and pleasing.

  The antithesis of the natural.

  The Lord Daimonas was a profane existence—horrible and repulsive to behold—the most unnatural thing one could possibly imagine.

  It was everything that was wrong with the world.

  And simply by standing there, Alexander had the misfortune of observing it in full detail…

  …and in utter horror.

  Nearly three meters tall, it was a monstrous being. One did not need to fight it to understand that its strength belonged to an entirely different league.

  Its body was the most nightmarish thing Alexander had ever witnessed—far worse than when it had still been an ordinary Daimonas, which had already defied description.

  But now it was different.

  Now it bore a humanoid form.

  At its core stood a gigantic skeletal structure, wrapped in muscle and pulsating flesh in an advanced state of decay. Blood dripped endlessly from every part of its corrupted body, falling in heavy drops to stain the land beneath it.

  Its legs were enormous—massive, grotesquely muscular. Its feet no longer resembled anything human; they looked like the base of ancient tree trunks, as if invisible roots were buried deep within the earth itself.

  Across its broad torso, deformed ribs and clavicles were clearly outlined beneath layers of rotting muscle and torn flesh. What made the sight even more repulsive were the countless open holes puncturing its pectorals, from which blood poured without end, as if the body itself were unable to contain what it had become.

  Its arms were long and thick, built for violence. Each hand possessed six fingers, more like elongated skeletal claws than living limbs. From its elbows jutted long, razor-sharp spikes, positioned so that a single blow would be enough to cleave a person in two.

  From its shoulders—riddled with bleeding cavities—protruded a chaotic array of bones: large and small, long and short, arranged without order or symmetry, as though its own skeleton had burst outward in rebellion against form.

  Its skull was horrifying. The jaws were packed with elongated, arrow-like teeth, capable of tearing great chunks of flesh away with a single bite. The eye sockets were deep and empty—devoid of light, devoid of life.

  And in its abdomen, at the very center of its body, the enormous mouth filled with endless teeth was gone.

  In its place remained something far more disgusting.

  The cavity was left open.

  Its internal anatomy spilled outward—entrails, intestines, unidentifiable organs—hanging freely from the torn abdomen. Thick and thin veins extended from that opening, spreading like a web of living flesh across its entire body, wrapping around itself as if in a dark, blasphemous embrace.

  As though it were holding itself together through profanation alone.

  And finally, above its head, floated the most terrifying aspect of the Lord Daimonas.

  The halo.

  The very same halo that had marked the beginning of its evolution.

  Now it burned and flared—not with purity, not with divinity, but with corruption. Its blazing glow was darker than darkness itself, utterly opposed to the sacred, as though the very act of becoming a Lord Daimonas were a mockery of all that was holy.

  And crowning that halo—

  The most blasphemous detail of all.

  A black cross.

  But not the cross of a king.

  Not the kind raised toward the heavens, toward the Gods, symbolizing that even a monarch bows before the divine.

  No.

  The Lord Daimonas praised nothing.

  For the cross that crowned it was sacrilegiously inverted—beneath the halo, pointing toward the ground—an unmistakable act of defiance, a grotesque insult directed at the Gods themselves.

  In that silent symbol, the Lord Daimonas proclaimed a vile declaration:

  ?The Gods are beneath me.?

  Then, the Lord Daimonas turned its attention toward Alexander.

  For the first time, within those empty eye sockets, two intensely red points ignited.

  “Ανθρωπε, αγαλλιασου ενωπιον τη? ευλογια? που χαριζει ο Κακο?.”

  Alexander’s eyes flew open. Instantly, countless tiny veins burst, staining his sclera red.

  “AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  He collapsed to his knees, screaming in madness. His hands flew to his ears as if trying to tear them off, and he slammed his head against the ground again and again until his forehead split open.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He couldn’t think.

  It felt as though his lungs were filled with water— as though he were drowning in sound.

  “Αυτη η σκοτεινη εξελιξη ειναι το πρωτο βημα προ? το τελο? του κοσμου. Και τωρα, προσφερε τι? προσευχε? σου στον σκοτεινο κυριο, υμνησε τον με τη ζωη σου, μολυνε το προφανο ειναι του με το αιμα σου και θυσιασε τη σαρκα σου για την ταχεια αναβαση του.”

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  At any moment, the final thread of his sanity threatened to snap, condemning him to a state from which there would be no return.

  And the Daimonas—upon witnessing the effect of its words—

  smiled.

  “Υποφερε και συστρεψου ενωπιον τη? ευλογια? που μου χαρισε ο Κακο?. Ο πονο? των τεκνων του φωτο? δεν ειναι παρα υμνοι αλαλαγμοι αφιερωμενοι στη σκοτεινη μεγαλοπρεπεια του.”

  Alexander wept beneath that absolute affliction, writhing in indescribable torment.

  The ears of living beings were not designed—nor created—to hear a Lord Daimonas speak. To them, every word was poison. Destructive noise. A weapon aimed directly at the mind.

  They heard it… and in doing so, their sanity could collapse beneath concepts too blasphemous to endure.

  But then—

  Something changed.

  A strange yet comforting sensation surged through Alexander, rising from his feet and spreading through his entire body.

  And with it, he regained control.

  His ears stopped bleeding.

  His fractured mind—teetering on the brink of madness—forced itself back together.

  Gritting his teeth, he launched himself to the side, putting distance between himself and the Lord Daimonas.

  “I thought… I thought I was going to go insane…” he muttered, gasping for breath. “Its words… are the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  Still dizzy, his vision swimming, he fixed his gaze once more on the Lord Daimonas—

  on its aberrant existence.

  “How… how are we supposed to defeat this thing…?” He swallowed hard, clenching his fists. “If just hearing it is enough to render me helpless…”

  “Δεν εχει σημασια ποσο και αν φυγει?· το πεπρωμενο σου ειναι να πεθανει? στο ονομα του Κακου.”

  Alexander clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. Once again, the Lord Daimonas had spoken those indecipherable, harmful words.

  But this time—

  Nothing happened.

  “What…?” he whispered, staring at his hands. “This time it didn’t do anything to me… and even though my heart is pounding with fear… its words didn’t hurt me.”

  The Lord Daimonas tilted its head, sensing that its voice had failed—that it had provoked nothing in that human.

  And it understood.

  “Εσυ… εχει? ευλογηθει. Τωρα πια δεν εισαι αξιο? να ακουσει? τη γλωσσα του Κακου. Μονο ο θανατο? σου απομενει.”

  Alexander felt his life hanging by a thread, and his instincts screamed a single command.

  ?Defend yourself.?

  And without wasting a second, he obeyed.

  “Reinforcement Magic: Total Strengthening, One Hundred Five Percent.”

  He raised his guard.

  What he had inflicted upon the Daimonas before was now being repeated—

  but this time, he was the one receiving it.

  The Lord Daimonas brought its massive fist down upon Alexander’s entire existence.

  Pure instinct—nothing more—allowed him to react.

  He crossed his forearms in an X and raised them just in time.

  Barely.

  It was nowhere near enough.

  The impact was absolute.

  His arms were driven back violently, crushed against his own face as the blow detonated through his body. Bones screamed. Muscles tore. His vision exploded in white.

  Alexander felt the full weight of that strike.

  Not just strength— but authority.

  It was so savage that the same thing that had happened to the Daimonas earlier happened again—

  only now, he was the one sent flying.

  His body was launched deep into the forest, smashing through trees like brittle twigs and slamming into the ground with bone-shattering force.

  Spinning.

  Bouncing.

  Unable to stop.

  And carving a path of destruction through the woods as he disappeared into the darkness.