The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the battlefield littered with fallen corpses and shattered weapons. The stench of blood filled the air like a suffocating blanket. Quinn stood at the center, his eyes glowing a deep crimson, his shadow writhing at his feet like a living creature hungry for more.
The enemy forces, still numbering in the dozens, hesitated. They had seen him cut down their comrades without mercy, moving like death incarnate.
"You still want to try?" Quinn's voice was low but carried across the battlefield. His tone wasn't a taunt — it was a warning.
A commander stepped forward, his qi flaring like a burning sun. "Kill him! He's just one man!"
The shout was enough to break the hesitation. Dozens surged forward, blades flashing and magic crackling.
Quinn vanished.
One moment he was there, the next he melted into the darkness underfoot. His enemies barely had time to register the movement before screams erupted behind them. The shadow beneath their feet stretched unnaturally, and black tendrils erupted from it, piercing armor and flesh with wet, sickening sounds.
A knight swung at him with a glowing blade, but Quinn reappeared from the shadows in front of the man, his blood-coated claws slicing across the knight's chest. The man's life drained instantly as Quinn absorbed his blood essence, strength surging through him like wildfire.
Blood Skill: Crimson Surge.
The world slowed for him. Every heartbeat of his enemies was like a drum guiding his killing rhythm. He darted forward, weaving between blows, his shadow rising to block incoming spells while his claws found flesh.
A mage screamed as Quinn's shadow coiled around her neck, snapping it with a twist. A spearman tried to skewer him from behind, but Quinn's form burst into mist, reforming just behind the man. The spearman didn't even have time to turn before Quinn's hand punched clean through his back, ripping out a still-beating heart.
Lightning split the sky as one of the enemy's strongest unleashed a devastating qi attack — a massive spear of energy aimed right at Quinn. But instead of dodging, Quinn slammed his palm into the ground.
Shadow Barrier.
A wall of pure darkness rose before him, swallowing the spear's energy as if it had never existed. The enemy's eyes widened in shock, but Quinn was already moving.
He leapt high, twisting mid-air, his hand gathering crimson energy. The blood in the air seemed to answer his call, forming a swirling vortex around his palm.
Blood Magic: Sanguine Reaper.
He slammed the attack into the ground where the enemy stood. The explosion of blood and shadow ripped through the earth, sending chunks of dirt and stone flying. When the dust cleared, only mangled remains were left.
The rest faltered, fear replacing their earlier rage. Quinn's eyes swept over them like a predator judging which prey was worth the effort.
"You chose this," he said coldly.
He stepped forward, and the ground seemed to darken with every movement. His shadow spread like a living tide, swallowing the light. The survivors screamed and fled, but the shadow chased them, dragging them down one by one.
Within minutes, silence returned.
Quinn stood amidst the carnage, breathing steadily. His power had grown again, but he could feel something deeper awakening — the merging of his blood skills with his shadow arts. A dangerous harmony.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, stronger enemies were waiting. But tonight, this battlefield belonged to him.
And the moon bore witness to his reign of blood and darkness.