The brutal fight between Cassian and Qavael tore through the cavernous space of the abandoned warehouse.
It was bloody and merciless.
The stagnant air hung thick, choking on the sharp scent of copper, and fractured concrete. Every impact echoed off the corrugated metal walls with the sickening sound of bone cracking under immense supernatural force.
Yet Cassian refused to stay down.
The wet, sickening squelch of mechanical movements shifted just beneath his pale skin, unnaturally knitting flesh and sinew back together with every devastating blow he absorbed.
The Doom was keeping him intact, treating his body like a vessel that could not be allowed to break. It was a grotesque display of supernatural endurance, a mockery of natural healing that left the air tasting of spoiled copper and static electricity.
The heavy vibrations of their combat had already shattered the remaining windows, raining jagged glass down into the shadows.
