Grey's vision blurred as he looked down and saw [Duskfang]'s fangs embedded in his throat, its jaws clamped tight like a vice. Strangely, the pain wasn't as intense as he expected. But he knew—if he didn't act fast, he might actually die.
Without thinking, pure survival instinct kicked in. Grey's hand shot up, fingers stiff like daggers, and he drove them into [Duskfang]'s scaly hide. His nails dug deep into the creature's flesh, eliciting a low growl from the beast. For a moment, [Duskfang] was taken aback—how was this human still breathing, let alone fighting back?
Angered, [Duskfang] retaliated, sinking its fangs even deeper into Grey's neck, locking down harder, trying to crush his windpipe. Blood dripped down Grey's skin, and the beast licked it hungrily. Yet, something was wrong. The blood, which had felt like liquid power before, was different now. Bitter. Tainted. Instead of energizing it, the blood seemed to sap its strength, making its limbs feel sluggish.
