Damon's strength surged fivefold the instant his skill activated. The moment his blade met the Mist Knight's, he felt it—Wyvern's Fang cracked slightly against the steel of that cursed sword. The sheer force of the clash sent him skidding backward, boots dragging against bone and dust. But he wasn't fazed.
He gritted his teeth, gripping the hilt tighter.
'So I can match someone in the second class advancement… at least in raw strength.'
He timed his retreat perfectly—just in time for Xander's spear and Leona's blade to follow up behind him, both aimed straight at the Mist Knight.
The knight raised his sword with cold precision, deflecting Xander's spear—and in that same moment, his form shifted into a thin, ghostly vapor. Leona's strike passed right through him.
Damon lifted two fingers sharply. With a silent snap, he fired a volley of magic bullets. Where thunder should have cracked, there was only a dull thud against the knight's armor. No sound. No recoil. Just resistance.
