Damian parted his lips, discreetly breathing through his mouth since it hurt to breathe through his nose. His chest felt tight, a burning sensation spreading within. He was not a doctor, but he knew for certain he had suffered internal damage.
If Damian had unleashed his transformation skill even a millisecond later than he did, he would have died from that strike.
"Heavy and fast," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
That attack had been insane. It almost felt as though Bathin had teleported, yet Damian had seen it clearly. There was no teleportation. Instead, the world ahead of him had seemed to shrink, instantly reducing the distance between them to nothing. It felt as if space itself had carried Bathin forward. He did not walk, nor did he vanish and reappear. It was a strange technique, one that even someone with a sharp mind like Damian struggled to comprehend.
