Lucian took a step forward—just one—but it hit like a seismic shift.
The air thickened. Movement slowed. A pulse of oppressive weight rippled through the battlefield. A cocktail of Dominions—blood, war, cruelty, villainy, and more unnamed terrors—awoke in tandem, each one lacing the world in its flavor of dread.
As always, their influence began to cloud Lucian's mind. His thoughts frayed at the edges, darker urges pushing through the cracks.
"Man... this is why I never go full throttle," he muttered with a half-laugh, cracking his neck from side to side.
Then—he bit down on his thumb, almost playfully. Like tasting candy. Blood bloomed instantly, bright and alive.
Across from him, the crimson assassin stiffened, the playful smirk dropping. He could sense it—this wasn't a joke anymore.
"Well then," the assassin said mockingly, posture sharpening. "Let me wipe that smug look off your face."
In a flicker, one became three—clones peeling from his form like ripples of red silk.
