As Denon's dagger clattered to the stone floor, Velghan stepped forward to finish the resistance once and for all. But in the next second, he felt something off—an unnatural silence. Too perfect.
He turned, instincts sharpened by hundreds of battles kicking in. But there was no one behind him. The corridor was empty. No footsteps. No shifting shadows. Not even breathing.
Velghan's brow furrowed. This wasn't a simple mistake. Something was here. Something even his honed senses couldn't catch under normal circumstances.
"Tsk," he muttered, then spoke louder. "So… you really do exist."
He took a half-step back, lowering his center of gravity. His eyes scanned every corner of the hallway, watching for glints of light, micro-movements, or subtle temperature shifts.
"Even among the upper echelon of warriors like myself," he continued, "your kind is considered a myth."
