The two landed opposite to each other.
Though, Usan couldn't stop.
With every second of staying idle, the skeletons below his feet pulled him down.
He had to keep moving his legs and swinging his arms.
But the feelings of bugs crawling in and out of him was relentless. Even with his shadows, it did little to protect him from the morbid sensations.
Anger.
More rage.
Anger was the kryptonite of fear. It heightened one's urge to act before they ever got a chance to act again.
If anyone else had been in his place, they'd succumb and scream from the top of their lungs.
Not him, though.
With newfound strength, Usan turned around and shot at the Empress again.
Strangely, the wide gash on her shoulder hadn't healed. It was still leaking with black blood, and it made no effort at reforming.
'She can't heal,' Usan realized, then spared a glance at his own body. Wounds and bruises weren't healing. 'Neither can I.'
