Michael could not be blamed for that assumption. The system did not reward him for killing humans. No familiar panel floated into view to announce experience gained, no neat line of text to confirm a kill.
Michael shook his head once, clearing the stray thought. He lowered his spear slightly and stepped closer.
Black blood still steamed softly on the ice around the elder. The poison that Venomfang had pushed into his body gnawed at every vein and meridian like acid. Up close, Michael could see how badly the man was ruined. His aura was in tatters, leaking from him in broken, ragged pulses that did not match the image of a Rank four at all.
Even so, when Michael sent his senses inward, he felt it.
A faint, stubborn pulse.
Life.
His gaze narrowed in quiet surprise.
"Still alive," he murmured.
