The dagger flew straight toward Arthur's head.
For a split second—
His mind went blank.
The air whistled sharply as the poisoned blade cut through it. The tip shone under the dungeon's red light. There was no way to dodge. No time to block. No space to move aside.
Time seemed to slow down.
His photographic memory captured everything—the dagger's path, Marco's smug grin, Arlo's eager expression, Atlas standing nearby.
Arthur's body wanted to move his instincts screaming at him.
But he knew he was too late.
So he used the only option left.
SCHLK!
The dagger stabbed straight through a head.
The blade pierced the forehead with a sickening crunch. It broke through bone, passed through the brain, and burst out the back of the skull in a spray of blood and shattered bone.
The body shook violently for a moment.
Then it went completely limp.
