No Good Deed

The Vulture was like a pitch-black rag that was violently pinned to the nebulous surface of the shadow of Condemnation — of course, if that rag was large enough to cover an entire stadium with its dark expanse, rippling eerily in a ghostly wind. The impact tore its wings and slammed the creature into the colossal shadow, the ivory fang piercing and impaling it like a giant javelin. 

Sunny was not sure if he had managed to deal a grievous wound to the dark creature, but he knew that it was hurt. 

More importantly, it was immobilized, even if it was only for a few fleeting moments. 

Already, the Vulture was moving, its voluminous body rippling to produce countless tendrils of darkness. The tendrils extended forward, found purchase on the flesh of Condemnation, and then strained, trying to pull the creature off the ivory fang. 

Sunny was not paying too much attention to its movements, though…