"Be careful—!" Nusayel barked, his voice cutting through the storm's howl.
Zephyr moved before the words fully registered.
His body blurred—[Void Step]—a technique that folded space between strides. One moment he was beside the baron, the next he was behind Harken, his saber a silver arc in the dim light.
The Mistborn that had materialized at Harken's back recoiled, its vortex-head twisting in hollow surprise. Ice-sharp fingers, meant to pierce flesh, found only air as Zephyr's blade carved upward—
"Sssss—!"
A guttural hiss tore from its formless maw as the saber sliced through mist and solidifying flesh. Black ichor sprayed, freezing midair into jagged shards before clattering to the ground. The creature staggered, its spiraling eyes flickering wildly.
