The Blood Noble who had smiled at the crimson moon did not understand what had just descended upon the battlefield, but he felt it in his veins like liquid fire poured straight from the heavens.
The red light soaked into his skin.
It sank into his blood.
It wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
Then it fed him.
A surge of power burst through every vessel in his body. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened, his vision cleared until even the smallest movement in the grass ahead appeared slow and obvious.
The first of the upright wild dogs lunged.
The Blood Noble did not hesitate.
He swung his blade in a wide arc, and for the first time in his life, he felt his strike carry a weight that went beyond his own strength. The sword hummed as it cut through air, through wind, through resistance.
The wild dog tried to twist aside.
Too slow.
