…unamused.
"But you're wrong, boy."
And that was the final word before the air cracked—truly cracked, like glass shattering under pressure—as the vampire launched forward again, no longer holding back.
His speed was absurd now. The kind that blurred vision and twisted the laws of motion. The floor beneath him dented, marble tiles exploding under the sheer force of his leap.
His fist was already halfway into Cruxius's face before the latter even tilted his head to the side.
Boom!
The wall behind exploded into rubble, Cruxius crashing through it—sent hurtling like a cannonball, smashing through support beams, rolling through the splinters of plaster and steel, blood misting the air.
His arm twisted—shattered—and then, in an instant, reformed, the bones snapping back with sickening pops.
He stood up.
His shirt was torn. His jaw was cracked, hanging awkwardly, but even that slowly pushed back into place.
