Damon watched as the ice spread from Matia's sword into the struggling body of Saladirel. The elf tried to scream… but no sound came out.
A black aura bled from Matia's form, swirling like dark mist. Damon's severed arm — the one Matia still held — dissolved into shadow, sinking into Saladirel's body.
At that moment, Damon felt it — his shadow energy drained from him… siphoned into Matia… then funneled into the form of the elf.
There was a brief pause… and then Saladirel gasped. His eyes rolled back… and closed.
He was dead.
But Damon didn't hear any system notification.
The air turned ice cold. The shadows thickened. Saladirel's shadow rose from the ground… devouring his corpse as it tore free from the ice.
The shadow condensed, molding itself into a solid form.
An orb fell from the corpse's chest with a soft thud — Damon barely spared it a glance.
Before him stood a creature wrapped in pitch-black armor. Its skin glistened like inky oil, its form hazy like a living shadow.
