Chapter 98
Dax moved like a shadow in the storm, twisting and turning through the ruined streets as crimson threads of blood pursued him relentlessly. The attacks had a sinister life of their own — curving, looping, and striking from blind angles like intelligent predators locked onto his scent. No matter how fast he moved, the blood followed.
With a sharp flip of his palm, Dax initiated the transformation. Cil responded instantly, shifting and reshaping in perfect synchronization with his will. In his grip, the weapon felt alive, humming with shared purpose. He treated the blade exactly as he treated himself: a weapon in the hands of a greater weapon.
"Inerous," Dax muttered, breath steady despite the chaos, "why does this attack behave like that? Don't tell me you haven't deduced anything yet."
