The Doom Beast lunged.
And Alex barely saw it.
One moment, it stood still—silent and twitching, its body cloaked in a haze of burning green light, like a mirage corrupted by radiation. Its tendrils slithered lazily through the air, almost rhythmic, hypnotic. Then—
Nothing.
It was simply gone.
No charge. No roar. No tension to brace against.
Just raw, blistering motion.
Pure, unfiltered speed.
Even with the Doom Slayer's surge pulsing through his veins, enhancing every muscle, flooding his body with artificial adrenaline, Alex's eyes could hardly track the blur that was now death racing toward him.
His instincts screamed.
The world narrowed, time slowing as survival took the wheel.
Serrated claws, wreathed in dark smoke, curved like reaper's hooks, screamed toward his face—silent, but no less deafening. They weren't slashing. They were *driving forward*, intent on punching through bone and flesh and whatever lay beyond.
And then—just an inch before impact—
