Daniel moved first.
He didn't throw a warning. He didn't talk. He just stepped into the creature's path and snapped his fingers.
A line of black fire cut across the ground.
The scavenger didn't flinch. It didn't even slow. The flame hit it, crawled up its thin body for a second, then went out like it had been smothered.
Daniel's grin faded.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's annoying."
The thing's needle arms shot forward.
Daniel leaned back, barely clearing the strike, then swung low with a clawed hand and ripped at its legs.
His claws passed through like he'd sliced smoke.
The creature's mouth stretched wider, and the air around Daniel buckled. Not heat. Not force.
Pressure. Like the world was trying to fold him.
Daniel's boots slid a full step.
He hissed and threw hellfire again, this time from both hands. The flame didn't spread wide. He kept it tight, sharp, controlled.
The scavenger finally reacted.
It flickered.
Not dodged. Flickered, like it was skipping frames.
