Darkness

The cultist's hands had also shifted into paws resembling the hind limbs of the frost dragon, buts of feather adorning his wrists, sign that in his venture to commune with the beast, he would eventually lose his arms, replacing them for wings, that was only for the future however, and as of now, the living's future was uncertain.

Loimos first attempted to turn the area into a blood swamp, with shriek, his enemy countered that, sending mana outwardly, wrestling the blood away from him, although his mana was inferior to the undead's pure death force in terms of quality, Loimos had yet to have to vye for the domination of his own energy.

Next, the skeleton stabbed forth, his sword caught in the hold of the draconic paw, the blade incapable of cutting into the skin, infusing death force, it began to bore into flesh, before rotten blood could be injected, the cultist pushed Loimos's arm away, striking the undead straight in the chest, his attack hitting a solid surface.