He swung his fists, aiming for the shadows. But every time he struck, they melted away, slipping back into the darkness like smoke, intangible and taunting.
"How the hell do I defeat these things?" Silas growled through gritted teeth, his voice edged with a volatile mix of anger and desperation.
His fists clenched tighter, the muscles straining under his skin. He knew he was running out of time—and out of options.
In the suffocating darkness, Ozivox concealed himself, his eyes glinting with cold calculation as he observed Silas's struggles. Despite landing a few successful hits, a scowl marred Ozivox's face.
"I was weak when I activated the Nightmare Shroud ability... I can't hold this much longer. And by the looks of it, I'm not even close to defeating him yet." Ozivox's thoughts swirled in a storm of frustration. His gaze remained locked on Silas, who fought desperately against the relentless onslaught of shadow creatures.