"A shame," Ivan muttered, shaking his head slightly. "I was aiming for the head. Guess I still need more practice with a bow."
Ludivine stood frozen, her mouth agape in disbelief.
Ivan had landed a blow on the demon.
Whether it was due to sheer luck or catching the creature off guard, it didn't matter—he had done it. And not just any blow. The strike was so strong that a gaping hole now was on the demon's stomach, revealing the scene behind it as if through a grotesque window. Any ordinary man would have succumbed instantly, but this was no ordinary body; it was entirely possessed, refusing to dying despite the mortal wound.
Even so, it didn't change the fact: Ivan had succeeded where Ludivine had failed. None of her arrows had managed to hit their mark, yet somehow Ivan, the novice, had landed a strike.
But Ivan wasn't wrong.