The figure in black moved with predatory grace, his blade wreathed in that distinctive red-white energy that made Noah's blood run cold. Dark chi. The energy signature was unmistakable—corrupted, hungry, fundamentally wrong in a way that made reality itself recoil.
"Lucas!" Noah shouted, his voice carrying desperate urgency. "Behind you!"
Lucas spun, his soul form blazing as he caught sight of the approaching threat. His eyes widened in recognition and horror. "Purge," he breathed, electricity crackling around his form in defensive patterns.
The dark chi soldier was already moving, his blade cutting through the air in a perfect arc aimed at Lucas's throat. The young soldier threw himself backward, his soul form flickering as the corrupted energy passed inches from his neck.
That's when Noah noticed the sand.
