The courtyard was still echoing with the collective scream when Calien's blade phased through the creature.
It was like slicing into water—no resistance, no impact, just a ghostly ripple spreading from the point of contact.
The translucent flesh shimmered oddly as if the steel didn't belong in the same dimension. For a split second, Calien blinked, startled. Then the true danger surged.
A spear-like tentacle lashed out, aimed straight at his chest. But Calien moved with instinctive sharpness, ducking low, then springing backward with three swift steps.
The ground beneath him cracked slightly from the force of his retreat.
A deep, throaty roar erupted from the cage, the sound distorted, almost like the creature was rabid.
Its humanoid torso twisted unnaturally, and its limbs—or what could be called limbs—whipped through the air.
