Chapter 137: Embers and Echoes
The severed limb hit the cracked pavement with a wet, heavy thud. Mama G did not scream. The former Wyvern Squad captain bit down on her lip so hard she tasted iron, her remaining hand tightening its white-knuckled grip around the hilt of her draconic-runed kitchen knife. Blood poured freely from the cauterized stump of her left shoulder, hissing as her innate fire magic instinctively fought to seal the grievous wound.
A few yards away, the Blood Cultist giggled. He twirled a bizarre, crimson-silk umbrella over his shoulder, stepping through the battlefield with an eerie, floating grace. From the razor-sharp tip of the umbrella's central spike, Mama G's blood dripped. The cultist leaned forward, running a long, pale tongue along the metal in a delicate, almost feminine gesture.
