Cliff advanced like a storm of destruction, each step marking the end of those foolish enough to stand in his way. His rhythmic breathing merged with the clashing of weapons and the agonized screams, creating a grim symphony. Corpses littered the ground behind him, drained of their life essence, their faces frozen in eternal horror.
There was neither mercy nor hesitation. Every enemy that fell had their energy absorbed in a fluid dance, a transition so natural it seemed instinctive. The warmth of freshly absorbed essence spread through his body, making him stronger, faster, and sharper.
Despite this overwhelming power, a dull frustration gnawed at Cliff. These weren't the variant demons he was hunting. Their essence, while valuable, didn't compare to the challenge he sought. But he pressed on. The variety of abilities he had gained since the beginning of this battle more than made up for it.
