Draven moved.
Not fast—
**inevitable.**
Shadow Step carried him through the charging knights in broken pulses of darkness, his form collapsing and reforming between heartbeats. Every appearance ended the same way: one clean motion, one precise cut.
A throat opened.
A spine severed.
A heart pierced.
No wasted effort.
No second strikes.
Bodies dropped where they stood, armor clattering as blood soaked into the darkened ground. Panic rippled through the formation as realization set in—
They couldn't react.
They couldn't even *see* him move.
"He's behind—!"
"Left—no, right—!"
"Light preserve—!"
Too late.
Draven was already gone, shadow slipping past raised shields and desperate swings. Knights tried to predict his path, striking where they *thought* he would be—
But Shadow Step did not obey linear movement.
He appeared inside their guesses.
Inside their fear.
One by one, they fell.
Yet they did not flee.
Not yet.
From within the crowd, robed figures emerged—priests, faces pale but resolute, staffs raised high. Golden light flared as runes ignited along their sleeves, mana humming with urgency.
Chains erupted from the glow.
Not physical.
Not holy fire.
**Bindings.**
Gleaming gold links shot outward, snapping through the darkness toward Draven, curving midair as if alive. They didn't aim for where he *was*—
They aimed for where he would be.
The first chain snapped shut around empty shadow.
Missed.
The second adjusted instantly, splitting, branching, chasing the distortion Shadow Step left behind.
Draven felt it then.
Resistance.
His momentum tugged—not stopped, but *contested*—as the chains followed him through transitions, refusing to lose the trail.
"Tch."
He twisted mid-step, weaving between links without slowing. His dagger flashed as he passed another knight—
—throat opened, body falling—
—but the chains kept coming.
They wrapped around shadows instead of flesh.
Dragged at his afterimage.
Pulled at the space he had already exited.
Smart.
Very smart.
Draven skidded into view for a fraction of a second, boots splashing in blood-soaked earth as chains snapped shut just behind him.
Priests shouted in unison, voices layered with mana.
"Bind the shadow!"
"Do not let him vanish!"
Golden links lashed tighter, overlapping, forming a net that *remembered* him.
Draven straightened, rolling his shoulders as more bodies collapsed around him.
"So that's how you want to play it," he said lightly, red eyes sharpening.
The darkness beneath his feet deepened again—
—but this time, it **fought back**.
Just for a heartbeat.
The nearest knight didn't even have time to scream. Draven's dagger slid cleanly beneath the helmet, a short twist, and the body slumped. He caught the falling sword out of the air, straightening with **two weapons now in hand**.
He turned toward the incoming chains, gaze cold.
"I don't have time for this," he said flatly.
Then, quieter—almost annoyed—
"But leaving you alive is clearly a mistake."
He exhaled.
A sharp stream of air cut from his lips.
And he was gone.
Not slipping past the chains—
**passing through them.**
Shadow Step detonated beneath his feet, his form flattening into darkness before reappearing *inside the priest line*.
One priest barely had time to widen his eyes.
Draven's borrowed sword thrust forward with brutal precision.
Straight through the skull.
The blade punched out the back of the priest's head in a wet burst of blood and shattered light. Draven ripped it free without slowing, already moving—dagger flashing as he pivoted—
A knight's throat opened.
Another collapsed with his spine severed.
A third lost his head mid-turn.
Bodies dropped in rapid succession, armor clanging as blood sprayed across the darkened ground.
The remaining priests shouted in panic.
"Barriers—now!"
"Protect us!"
"Don't let him through!"
Mana flared desperately as **golden barriers snapped into place**, overlapping shields of light forming a defensive ring around the robed figures.
Knights surged inward, abandoning formation, throwing themselves between Draven and the priests.
They finally understood.
The chains weren't enough.
The numbers weren't enough.
**The priests were their only chance to survive.**
Draven landed lightly a few steps away, blades dripping red, surrounded by corpses.
He looked at the wall of shields.
At the knights desperately forming up in front of them.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"Oh," he said, almost amused.
"So *now* you get it."
The shadows beneath him thickened, spreading like ink across the ground, crawling up fallen armor, swallowing light at the edges of the barriers.
Draven raised both weapons.
One dagger.
One sword.
Red eyes burning.
"Too damn bad," he continued calmly.
"You're still all in my way."
He stepped forward.
The darkness surged with him.
The chains snapped toward him again.
At the same time, a priest screamed an incantation—fire roared forward in a compressed wave, white-hot and blinding.
Draven didn't slow.
His sword came up in a clean, brutal arc.
The fire split in two.
The force howled past him on both sides, heat tearing at his coat as the divided flames curved inward—trying to swallow him anyway.
He stepped.
Shadow Step carried him *between* the converging inferno, his form flickering into darkness as the flames crashed together behind him in a violent explosion.
Chains followed—dozens of them—spiking outward, twisting, predicting.
Draven met them head-on.
Steel rang.
His blades moved faster than thought—dagger and sword flashing in perfect coordination as he **deflected every chain**, sparks and golden fragments exploding outward as links shattered and ricocheted through the air.
He didn't stop.
He pressed through the knights like a blade through flesh—one strike, one death.
A shield split.
A helm cracked.
A chest opened.
Bodies fell so fast they didn't even have time to finish collapsing before he was already past them.
Then—
The mana barrier.
Draven hit it.
Once.
The impact sent fractures racing across the glowing shield like shattered glass.
He hit it again—harder.
The barrier **shattered**, light exploding outward in a blinding flash.
The priests stared at him in horror.
Draven was already moving.
His sword swept once—clean, efficient.
A head left a body.
The corpse hadn't even begun to fall when—
Chains surged again.
They snapped toward him from every direction, desperate, enraged.
Draven twisted.
Dodged.
Then stepped onto one.
Midair.
His boot struck a golden link like solid ground, using it as a platform. He launched off it instantly, Shadow Step detonating beneath him—
And he vanished.
The chains snapped shut on empty darkness.
From somewhere inside the shadows, Draven's voice drifted back—calm, cold, inevitable.
"You should've run."
And then—
He was already among them again.