The sharp sword blade met almost no resistance, and without the protection of the shadow armor, the body of the Dark Weaver was as fragile as a sausage, cleaved in two at the waist by Lancelot. Following that, he swung the great sword again, carving a ten-foot-long gash across the monster's body, from which a mass of gray blood and oddly shaped viscera spilled out, blanketing the lightless darkness.
The former master of Plague Swamp let out a piercing shriek, the tentacles at its side twitching wildly like worms on a hot pan, depleting the last bit of strength from its broken body.
In Lancelot's spirit perception, he could clearly sense the monster's life force rapidly dissipating, along with something else that, while intangible, was closer to the monster's "essence."
Soul.
