With a swift motion, Petne shifted to the side, his movements fluid and calculated. The blood tendrils missed by mere inches, embedding themselves into the marble floor where he had been standing. The ground cracked under the impact, but Petne was already moving, his shadowy form dancing through the room as if he were a part of the darkness itself.
"Too slow," Petne said, his voice calm and collected.
Sanguine snarled, the blood tendrils retracting and splitting into dozens of smaller whips, each one lashing out in a chaotic storm of strikes. The room was consumed in a whirlwind of red as Sanguine's power unleashed its full fury.
CRACK!
A nearby bookshelf exploded into splinters as the blood tendrils tore through it, sending shards of wood flying. The chandelier above shattered, raining down glass as the mansion groaned under the pressure of Sanguine's elemental rage.
