A faint red mist rose from his body, at first just a thin layer, like the morning fog, but it quickly thickened, enveloping him entirely.
The mist spread, touching the nearest rock, and the surface began to crack, as if corroded by something invisible.
It touched the bloodstains on the ground, and they evaporated instantly, leaving no trace.
Andre's three faces opened their mouths simultaneously, emitting a silent roar.
The left face had interlocking fangs, the right face's vertical eye spun wildly, and the front face's blood-red eyes shone ever brighter.
Duke furrowed his brows.
He sensed danger. Not the kind of oppression from a strong opponent, but a more primal, instinctive alertness.
Like standing at the cliff's edge, like being eyed by a venomous snake, like sensing something awakening in the darkness.
His intuition wildly warned him not to let Andre complete this state.
He did not hesitate.
Duke raised his right hand, spreading his five fingers, palm facing the sky.
