He really did almost die. Raising his head, the old pirate looked at the approaching head of white hair in the darkness. The latter's calm pace was a sharp contrast to his broken look.
If not for his limited potential that made him not even dare risk it all for another step up the ladder of evolution, he would have been the one who was calm, leaving his opponent broken in his place.
His thin lips trembled, his heart unable to even feel joy at surviving, at touching the invisible ceiling he never had the talent to cross. But as it seemed, he might not have the opportunity to lament over his fate anymore, nor vent his resentment at the unfair world on his prey for whom he was the god, and the demon.
