With a sharp slicing sound, a fine, narrow gash appeared in the ground directly in front of Alan.
But that wasn't the astonishing part.
Typically, when a blade strikes the earth, it leaves only a fleeting mark—a scar in the soil, soon forgotten. But this cut was different. The mana embedded within it continued to swirl and churn inside the trench, emanating a cutting force so intense that it lingered in the air long after the strike had passed.
It didn't fade.
It lingered, razor-sharp and deadly, warning all who approached.
Both the shadowy figure and the eerie dark silhouette halted at once when they saw the slash.
They didn't stop because they were impressed, or curious. No—they stopped because the one who delivered that strike had issued a warning: no one touches Alan.
