The crimson moon loomed overhead, bleeding its eerie light across the battlefield. Quinn's breath came in sharp bursts, steam curling from his lips in the cold night air. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the surging mix of shadow qi and blood magic tearing through his veins.
The enemy stood before him—three elite Shadow Reapers in black, their auras suffocating. They moved in sync, their blades almost invisible in the darkness, their killing intent pressing against him like a crushing weight.
"Quinn," a whisper came from the shadows. It was the voice of the Blood Crow spirit inside him, low and mocking. Feed me.
Quinn tightened his grip on his twin daggers. "You'll get your feast," he growled.
The first Reaper lunged. Quinn's body blurred, his Shadow Step activating. The world warped, time stretching into an unnatural stillness. He appeared behind the attacker, daggers flashing. Steel kissed flesh, and the Reaper's arm fell to the ground before his scream tore the night.
The second came from the side, blade aiming for Quinn's ribs. Without looking, Quinn spun, blood threads whipping from his fingertips. They coiled around the attacker's wrist like crimson snakes, yanking him forward into a brutal knee strike. Bone cracked, blood sprayed, and the Blood Crow within Quinn screeched in delight.
The third Reaper hesitated. That single heartbeat of doubt was fatal. Quinn's shadow exploded outward, engulfing him in a dome of black. Within, blades of darkness slashed in every direction, cutting flesh, tendon, and bone. When the shadow receded, the Reaper collapsed in pieces.
But it wasn't over.
The ground beneath Quinn pulsed with an ominous red glow. From it rose a cloaked figure—taller, broader, its presence far more dangerous. This one wore a mask of bone and radiated killing intent so sharp it made Quinn's qi shiver.
"Bloodspawn," the figure rumbled, voice like rolling thunder. "You've grown… but you're still prey."
Quinn's lips curled into a smirk. "We'll see who's prey."
The figure raised a hand, summoning a storm of spears made from condensed killing intent. They rained down like meteors. Quinn's shadows wrapped around him, forming a spiraling shield, each impact sending shockwaves through his bones. The last spear shattered the barrier, forcing him back a step.
Quinn countered, slashing his palm. Blood gushed out, but instead of falling, it swirled around him, solidifying into jagged crimson blades. With a flick of his wrist, they shot forward like a storm, each one guided by his qi. The masked warrior deflected most, but three sank deep into his armor, sizzling where they touched.
"You've tasted my blood," Quinn said coldly. "Now it's my turn."
He vanished—Shadow Shift. In less than a blink, he reappeared behind the warrior, blade aimed for the neck. The strike met steel—his opponent had countered without even turning. Sparks flew, qi clashing like thunder.
The warrior pushed him back, then unleashed a pulse of raw killing aura. Quinn's knees almost buckled, but he forced himself upright. His heart pounded, his qi channels burning.
Now, the Blood Crow whispered. Let me out.
Quinn let go.
His body twisted, veins glowing red, eyes burning with shadowfire. The world slowed to a crawl. Every movement of the warrior was visible—the twitch of a shoulder, the shift of a foot. Quinn became a blur of shadow and blood, every strike a lethal arc.
In a flurry of thirty-six cuts, he shattered the warrior's defense. With a final, brutal slash, Quinn's blade tore through mask and flesh alike.
The warrior's head hit the ground with a dull thud. The body collapsed moments later.
Quinn stood amidst the carnage, chest heaving. The shadows around him rippled like living things, and the blood on his hands steamed in the moonlight.
The Blood Crow purred inside his mind. More… we're just getting started.