My blade came up instinctively, but before steel met shadow, a voice cut through the chaos, and everything froze.
The tendril stopped mid-strike, suspended in the air inches from my face. My blade followed through instinctively, slicing at nothing but empty space. The momentum threw me slightly off balance, and I staggered a step before regaining my footing.
I turned back toward the entity of death, breath ragged, and what I saw made my pulse stutter.
It was still alive—still moving—but something was wrong. The writhing tendrils that had been spreading uncontrollably only moments ago were now twitching in place, trembling as though caught in invisible restraints. The black ink around it quivered violently, but it couldn't advance, couldn't move.
"What… the hell?" I muttered under my breath, scanning the scene for any sign of what had caused this sudden paralysis.
And then the voice came again:
"Isn't facing such a being beyond you?"
