The moment the succubus glided away from the crowd, Isiah bolted. A wave of heavy exhaustion dragged at his limbs, a severe side effect from both the vampire's blood draining and the lingering lingering static of her seductive compulsion spell when her fingers had touched his face.
Yet with a brief window to escape, he refused to waste a single second, sprinting down the dark stone passageway. The surrounding monsters tracked his movement with ravenous eyes, glaring at him as if he were nothing more than fresh meat, and Isiah was determined not to end up in their stomachs.
'I need to learn their language as fast as possible so I can actually understand what they are saying,' Isiah analyzed frantically while running. 'I bet the grimoire tucked in my trousers is written in their dialect too. Learning it is no longer optional.'
