The first strike split the air.
Steel met flesh. Sparks erupted.
The leader's dagger clashed against Dominic's claws, the force sending a shockwave through the alley. The walls trembled, dust raining down from above.
Dominic didn't flinch. He didn't step back.
His body moved like a shadow, weaving through the leader's attacks with an unnatural ease.
The leader's eyes narrowed.
This was wrong.
The boy from earlier— filled with fear, desperation, weakness—was gone.
What stood before him now was not Dominic.
This was something else.
Something lethal
Something beyond his understanding.
---
Dominic's movements were flawless.
Every step, every motion—it wasn't just fast. It was perfect.
The leader lashed out again—a feint, a blur of silver aimed at Dominic's ribs.
Dominic didn't fall for it.
His foot shifted.
Then—he vanished.
The leader's dagger slashed through empty air.
"Where is he", he couldn't detect his aura again, as if he disappeared into thin air.
But he knew not to drop his guard down.
But has he turned his back, his instincts screamed.
He twisted—
Too late.
Dominic's knee drove into his spine.
Bone cracked.
The leader's breath hitched.
His vision blurred for half a second—his mind racing he couldn't understand how he disappeared for a moment there.
Dominic's fingers closed around his throat.
A cold, detached voice whispered in his ear.
"Too slow."
Then—Dominic slammed him into the ground.
The impact sent cracks through the stone.
The leader gasped. Blood filled his mouth.
His mind raced. This isn't right.
He had fought bloodline warriors. He had killed mages, assassins, monsters.
But this—this was something older.
Dominic loomed over him. His expression was unreadable.
Not rage.
Not excitement.
Just pure, calculated control.
Like a hunter dissecting prey.
The leader gritted his teeth.
He wasn't dying here.
---
Dominic moved— he was going for the final blow.
The leader saw his opening.
His hand flashed toward his belt.
A burst of light—silver runes igniting, magic surging.
A counterattack.
Dominic's body stopped.
Looking for the man.
The leader seeing this struck—his dagger slicing toward Dominic's heart.
It should have worked.
It should have pierced him.
But then—
Dominic smiled.
A smile that didn't belong to him.
And suddenly—
The leader's wrist snapped.
A scream tore through the alley.
Dominic didn't stop there. He spun, driving an elbow into the man's ribs.
Another crack. Another gasp of pain.
Then—Dominic's fingers curled into a fist.
And he struck.
Once.
Twice.
A third time—so fast it blurred.
The leader's body slammed into the wall. Blood trickled from his lips.
His vision wavered. His knees buckled.
He was losing.
And for the first time in years—
He felt fear.
---
But just as he was about to strike.
He felt something inside him shaking.
A deep, throbbing pulse.
The pain wasn't from the fight.
It was from inside.
He knew he was going to reach his limit soon.
(Time is running out.)
(This body is not yet ready.)
He knew he had to end it soon or else the boy will die.
His fingers twitched. His vision blurred—just for a second.
The leader noticed.
He wasn't a fool.
He saw the crack in the armor.
And he took it.
---
The leader forced his battered body to move.
It was instinct. It was survival.
One second of weakness. That's all he needed.
He lunged—not with strength, but with precision.
His dagger gleamed in the moonlight.
And this time—it struck.
The blade sank into Dominic's side.
A perfect hit.
The leader exhaled.
Then—his heart stopped.
Because Dominic didn't fall.
Didn't scream. Didn't flinch.
Instead—he laughed.
Low. Amused. Almost… entertained.
The leader's blood turned to ice.
"What are you?"
Dominic's hand shot forward.
The leader had one second—just one—to react.
But it was too late.
---
Dominic caught the leader's neck.
His body trembled. His breath hitched.
His fingers stopped inches from Dominic's face.
"Snap!" that was what echoed throughout the dark alley.
The leader's lifeless body slumped down from Dominic's grasp.
His face filled with shock and fear, couldn't comprehend how he had died.
Dominic's looked at his fallen face without any emotion showing.
But as he was about to grab the fallen body.
His vision snapped back into focus.
The blood. The bodies. The scent of iron thick in the air.
Then—
The voice whispered, soft, fading.
(Enough for now, child. Rest.)
Dominic's knees buckled.
The overwhelming strength vanished.
And the pain—the real pain—came crashing down.
His body hit the ground.
His vision darkened.
The last thing he saw was the leader dead body on the floor.