With a flick of her wrist, she released the dark substance, sending it plummeting toward Vanne like a falling star.
The air thickened with malevolence as the black energy descended.
As Vanne committed to his Tyrannical Fist technique, a sudden chill raced down his spine, an instinctive warning that sent him freezing in place. His body halted mid-movement, the strike poised to unleash its power now caught in a moment of suspended animation. If his instincts hadn't kicked in, he would have been vulnerable, leaving his back open to an unseen enemy—a cardinal sin among sorcerers.
With a trace of annoyance flashing in his eyes, Vanne chuckled sharply at the irony of the situation. He quickly redirected his golden fist toward the ominous black energy gathering above him, a foreboding presence that threatened to descend upon him like a harbinger of doom. He had enough confidence in his power to believe he could contend with whatever Wicked Butterfly had conjured.
