Aiden Knight's POV
The crimson light faded from my vision as I found myself back in the arena. But something was fundamentally wrong. My body felt foreign, like wearing clothes that didn't fit. Vincent's palm strike hung suspended inches from my chest, frozen in time.
Then everything resumed in a violent rush.
Vincent's attack connected with my chest. Or rather, it should have. Instead, his fist stopped completely against what felt like an invisible wall. His confident expression cracked into confusion.
"What—" he began.
That's when I realized I wasn't in control anymore.
My mouth opened, but the voice that emerged wasn't mine. It was ancient, carrying the weight of centuries and the coldness of countless graves.
"Pathetic," I heard myself say in a tone I'd never used. "Is this what passes for strength in this era?"
