The demons writhed, but Damon's chains twisted like drill heads, shredding their insides to pulp. With a single clenched fist, he commanded the blood spears to erupt in bursts of golden-crimson light. The forest shook with the simultaneous explosions, and when the dust settled, nothing remained of the nine but scattered gore and twitching limbs.
Damon exhaled slowly, lowering his arm. His eyes widened in shock. Unlike the abyssal monsters, the demons were completely susceptible to his poisonous blood, and they folded in no time. This was not the shocking part.
The shocking part was the control he had over blood manipulation and poison manipulation. Both had increased significantly. He had only been thinking about his bloodline instability and, in general, his body's fucked up condition.
