A longer, sharper projection burst out, the energy more concentrated than the first, the shape tighter and the trajectory flatter—cutting straight through the air with increased force and a sound like fabric tearing.
Ken raised his arm—
but this time—
Slash.
The shadow shield split.
It didn't shatter dramatically. It divided cleanly along the line of the projection's path, parting like something that had simply been cut too quickly for the darkness to redistribute itself in time. And through the gap—
Ken's shoulder was grazed, a thin line of blood appearing against his skin.
For the first time—
he stepped back.
Not from pain, exactly. More like recalibration. The expression on his face shifted almost imperceptibly—a quiet internal adjustment, the look of someone revising their model of what they were dealing with.
Jello didn't stop.
Wing Burst again—
