Before Grimshaw could finish the threat, his pupils shrank to pinpoints, as though they had glimpsed something monstrous rising.

Jared moved, and the air itself seemed to flinch. In a heartbeat, stood ten paces away; the next, a streak of motion cleaved the air.

Grimshaw never managed to summon a veil of demonic aura or brandish his bone staff before agony tore through his right arm.

“Argh!” screamed, a ragged howl that split the clouds, far more agonized than the maimed demon general earlier.

Grimshaw looked down and found his arm gone, severed clean at the shoulder, dark green blood fountained, painting the stones. The bone staff that had served for years clanged to the ground, its crimson crystal flickering twice before dying.

“Y-You…” stammered, clutching the stump, his whole frame quivering.

How had this kid traversed the distance?