Malakai had severed it in a single, clean slash. But that wasn't what shook it so deeply. As a darkness creature. especially a manipulator, a being that could control the darkness it was made of, its healing capacity was supposed to be near limitless.
As a grade three, healing a severed hand shouldn't have taken even a second. But several seconds had already passed, and its body wasn't responding to its commands.
The creature's gaze narrowed on the severed stump, where thin wisps of smoke sizzled from the wound. Its eyes widened in realization.
Somehow, the vita in the air was preventing its body from healing. The darkness around its severed arm hissed and burned as it tried and failed to regenerate.
The manipulator gritted its teeth and turned, about to lash out at Malakai when the ground began to tremble.
Its gaze darted around quickly, mind spinning. There was nothing but shattered trees and broken branches everywhere.
What the hell was happening?
