Alicarde's dark vestments blended into the shadows as he surveyed the group huddled together in the cage, their expressions a mix of terror and uncertainty.
He appeared more sinister than ever, his presence amplifying their fear.
"Wrath, deliver that Strigoi to the witch. If it's still alive afterward, retrieve it and take it to the dungeons."
The people exchanged fearful glances, uncertain of what fate awaited them—was it release or something far worse?
Without a sound, Wrath moved. The bicorn distorted the air around it as it teleported beside the writhing Strigoi. Reality rippled like disturbed water as the creature bent the space around it.
Alicarde extended his hand, and the sword impaling the Strigoi flew into his grasp, guided by the invisible force of his [Flux Field]. The hilt slapped into his palm with a satisfying thud.