Barbs snapped from the whip with crisp pops. The leader’s arm went numb beneath the recoil and nearly lost its grip.

“What kind of power is that?” gasped, sensing a pure, tyrannical current inside Jared’s aura pressing hard against his own demonic haze.

Jared saw the hesitation and struck. He blurred forward like an arrow out free of its bowstring, Dragonslayer Sword flashing toward the hooded specter on the right.

The man raised twisting vines in panic, only for the golden arc to shear them clean and hover a whisper from his throat.

“Look out!” the leader barked, yanking his whip back to defend his comrade.

Jared’s mouth curled into a frost-thin smile. He pivoted mid-swing, instead of finishing the kill, the sword swept low, detonating a thunderclap of golden light that shredded the carpet of vines below and hurled a cloud of dust into the air.

Under that swirling veil, seized Flaxseed by the collar and vaulted from the ancient trunk, plunging toward the maze of shadowed trunks deeper in the forest.