Then, with a whip-crack motion, the quills detonated outward in a vicious storm, each one slicing through the air with the speed and force of a crossbow bolt. The sound they made was sharp and unnervingly clean, like blades being drawn all at once.
Once again, all glory be to [Danger Sense].
The warning flared in my head a split second before the quills even left the creature's body, and I moved without thinking, triggering [Warp] in the narrow gap between instinct and impact.
The world blinked, and I reappeared high above the battlefield, the cold night air rushing past me. The vulture twisted below, searching for me in frantic, jerking motions, its wings beating hard enough to scatter the smoking leaves around it.
I leveled my hand toward it, fingers spread, my stance midair, almost like I was about to unleash a kamehamaha.
