The Blood Fang Lord didn't move. She merely observed Damien with that same cold curiosity—a detached, clinical stillness reminiscent of a scientist watching a lab rat run in frantic circles, unaware it was already trapped.
There was no malice in her demeanor, no urgency—just an eerie indifference that made Damien's skin crawl.
Then her gaze drifted toward the weapon in his hands.
The Epoch Breaker.
For the first time, the expression beneath that ominous, cross-shaped mask seemed to shift. Though her eyes were veiled in shadow, something unmistakable gleamed behind them—a flicker of recognition? Of amusement? Maybe something darker?
It was impossible to tell.
And Damien didn't wait for her to make a move.
Thousands of mana-forged bullets erupted from around him, fanned out in a deadly bloom, each shot hurtling straight for the Blood Fang Lord's head. The air cracked under their force, and the faint whistle of pressure being torn apart followed their path.
