Frey's figure emerged from the tree-line.
The spirit turned its head slowly, its emotionless eyes locked onto Frey.
Woosh!
The spirit retrieved the sword from the beast's body, leaving it to swim in its own crimson blood. Then, It turned to face Frey fully and began to walk toward him.
Its strides grew longer as its speed increased every fleeting moment. Within a second, it had closed nearly ten meters.
Frey's heart skipped a beat. He stumbled backward, his hands already moving. He hurled three runes at the ground directly beneath the spirit's feet.
The explosions detonated simultaneously. Dirt, smoke, and debris erupted upward, swallowing the spirit in a cloud of destruction.
Frey's eyes shrank as a silhouette tore through the smoke before it the wind could take care of it.
The spirit emerged mostly uninjured.
A few scratches across its arms, including scorch marks on its body armor. But it was nothing meaningful.
