Just as Ludwig lowered into a predator's stance—shoulders hunched, tendons drawn taut, ready to end it—the bastard creature turned tail.
It didn't hesitate.
Didn't snarl.
Didn't even glance back.
The Flayed Herald simply spun on its flayed, twitching heels and sprinted—muscled limbs pumping like a thing possessed, red sinew gleaming beneath moonlight as it tore through the mud with animalistic speed.
The air where it stood a heartbeat ago was still quivering from its momentum.
Ludwig blinked, eyes flicking wide in disbelief.
His jaw slackened just enough to hang there in a weird cocktail of disgust, confusion, and abrupt disappointment.
"…That cowardly bastard," Ludwig spat, voice flat but rising with indignation.
"Ludwig…" Thomas's voice floated beside him, tone low and skeptical. His form shimmered slightly in the shifting light, more stable than usual.
Ludwig didn't look at him. "Yeah, what is it?"
