The shadow shroud still clung tightly to him, swirling in faint tendrils of black around his body, its defensive effect far from weak.
Even with its protection dulling the force of blows, he had still taken more than a thousand points of damage from a single strike.
His body trembled against the weight of that realization.
It wasn't even a skill. It wasn't some grand technique.
It was just… a punch. A simple punch. And yet it felt like he had been struck by a hammer forged to kill gods.
His ribs screamed, every breath a jagged reminder that his body wasn't built to endure such overwhelming power.
Riley's gaze flicked down for just a heartbeat, catching the faint gleam of the dagger still in the hooded figure's grip.
His lips parted, dry and tight as his thoughts spiraled.
'If a bare fist can carve through me like that… then what happens if he actually cuts me with that dagger?' His throat went dry, and for a fleeting moment, dread wrapped icy fingers around his spine.
