But Alex didn't stop.
In one fluid motion, he lunged upward, his shadow dagger slicing through the dark in an upward arc—like an uppercut made of shadow.
CRACK!
SQUELCH!
He felt the blade connect—striking something hard, like a shell—and then a warm, sticky liquid splattered over his hand.
The putrid stench intensified, making him grimace as he yanked the dagger free.
THUD!
A heavy body crashed to the ground, exhaling a final guttural growl before silence reclaimed the space.
Alex stepped back, crouched once more. His ears honed in, filtering through the thick darkness.
He didn't relax.
Then—
Fluttering.
Not one. Not two.
Dozens.
Wings beating the air in erratic rhythm—like a swarm of flying insects, closing in fast.
Alex retracted his daggers, dismissing the shadows into thin wisps, and reached into his spatial ring.
With a flash of green light, he drew out the Emerald Spear—its shaft gleaming faintly even in the darkness.
