As Adyr's Malice-coated blade sliced through the mutant's armored skin, it met resistance—but not enough to explain why the strike felt wrong. The cut was deep, yet it didn't satisfy him. This wasn't a matter of the mutant's endurance.
The real problem was simpler, and more troubling.
During his attack, his footing had slipped. His swing had been just slightly off, not because of carelessness, but because something shifted beneath him.
At the final moment of his dash, the ground itself had moved.
"What's going on?" He muttered, stepping back with a sharp frown.
The mutant's chest wound, though deep, wasn't fatal. Worse, the creature's rapid regeneration had already begun, expected but unwelcome.
Adyr's gaze dropped to the spot where his footing had failed.
That's when he noticed the problem. There were no footprints where he had stepped.
