"Shit! It was a trap!"
Gorthas's expression darkened as he realized too late—what he'd dodged was just an illusion.
Ethan had baited him, playing to his strengths and exploiting Gorthas's blind spot.
With a surge of blood-red energy erupting from his fists, Ethan unleashed his [Blood Rite] ability at full throttle.
His aura flared, more intense than ever.
Then—he struck. A brutal punch aimed straight at the back of Gorthas's skull.
Gorthas felt the air around him freeze, a razor-sharp chill crawling down his spine. Every pore on his body screamed in pain, like needles stabbing into his skin.
In a split-second panic, he lunged forward, trying to escape.
BAM!
Ethan's punch missed the mark by a hair—but still landed squarely on Gorthas's upper back.
A sickening crack echoed through the air. His chest bulged grotesquely as a torrent of black blood burst from his throat.
