Leon stood amidst the dissolving remains of the abomination, his blade still buried in the marble flesh of what had once been the City Lord. The air was thick with the stench of corruption, black dust breaking apart and scattering into the breeze. Yet, despite the victory that should have felt final, Leon didn't lower his guard. His instincts burned, whispering danger still lingered.
And he wasn't wrong.
The City Lord's head, half-crushed beneath Leon's sword, convulsed one last time before its jaw cracked open unnaturally wide. From within, shadows poured out in streams, wisps of distorted figures rising skyward like smoke escaping a fire.
