The blood dripped from his fingers, each drop hitting the floor with a sound that seemed to echo in the silence. Peacemaker stared at the crimson stain on his pale hand as though he were seeing something impossible.
He was bleeding.
Him.
The man who had walked through battlefields unscathed. The man who had faced Transcendents and walked away without a scratch. The man whose very essence commanded respect from the elements themselves.
Bleeding from a kick. A single, casual kick from a human who looked no older than twenty winters.
His mind, which had been a hurricane of thoughts just moments ago, suddenly went still. Clear. A cold, terrible understanding settled into his bones.
'This isn't strength. This isn't power. This is... something else entirely. Something I've never encountered in nine centuries of existence. It has to be.'
