Lirien stood amidst the crater, his chest heaving slightly. Eryxil hummed a low, bloodthirsty dirge in his grip as he fixed a hateful glare on the woman floating above him.“How do you draw breath?” he demanded, his voice tight with disbelief. “I sliced you in half. I killed you.”“We live in a world where the impossible is just another Tuesday. Things happen.” Scylla smirked, but she didn't look at him. Her eyelids snapped shut, sealing her gaze away. High above her, the Phoenix, Cryzara, widened its burning eyes. Through the mental link, Scylla saw the world in thermal vision—she saw Lirien not with her own eyes, but through the eyes of her beast.“Fool me once, shame on you,” she murmured. “But you won’t be locking eyes with me again. My abilities stay mine.”She turned her head slightly, addressing the Drakhael with blind precision.“And you…” Her voice dropped, colder than the ice that had imprisoned them. “When his body finally hits the floor, I want him back.”The Beast giggle

The Drakhael drifted to the periphery of the duel, his arms crossed over his chest, his burning gaze not on the combatants, but on the ground below. He studied the subtle shifts in the group’s posture—the tensing of muscles, the silent, telepathic coordination.“Hmm,” he rumbled low in his throat. “They are plotting something… or perhaps, they are waiting for the trap to spring.”“What do you mean?” Remiel asked, his mental voice laced with confusion. “Scylla clearly has the upper hand. She’s dominating him.”“No,” The Drakhael intoned, his eyes snapping back to Lirien. He dissected the Archdemon’s movements: the microscopic tremors in his arms, the frustration masked by bravado.“She may be immune to his magic, but physics is a cruel mistress. If Lirien connects with brute force, immunity won't save her from being crushed. She was clever to weaken him with the Frostfire, but she does not outclass him. Not in raw strength, and certainly not in speed.”“So… what is the plan?”“Lirien h

Moments before Malivern unleashed his cataclysmic strike, the Drakhael stiffened. His gaze flicked upward, piercing the veil of the clouds to lock onto a presence that had been skillfully concealed until now.“Tch. What is a Celestelite doing in a place like this?” he muttered, his voice dropping to a low growl laced with wary irritation.“Wait,” Remiel’s voice rang out in the mental space they shared, sharp with urgency. “Did I just hear Lirien say Essence Beasts are naturally stronger than their masters?”“They are,” the Drakhael replied, his outward composure unnervingly still. “And I know what you are thinking, but I cannot leave your body. Not yet.”“You still haven’t told me your endgame! What do you expect me to do, just watch them get slaughtered?!” Remiel spat, his anger vibrating through their shared psyche.“Although the power gap is significant,” the Drakhael said, his eyes scanning the battlefield below, calculating, “your allies have the numbers. With tactical precision,

Roars, hisses, shrieks, and the thunder of clashing steel rolled across the battlefield as the group faced Lirien. For a fleeting moment, the imprint of a fist marred his chest — then faded, his flesh smoothing as if the blow had never landed.His eyes burned with naked fury, grip tightening on his glaive until the haft creaked. “Where is he…?” he snarled, murderous intent spilling from him in suffocating waves. “I’ll tear him apart for the humiliation he dealt me.”“Oh, you mean plume head?” Enriel said with a crooked smirk, arms folded as dark flames crawled over his body like living shadows. “He’s… occupied.”He unfolded his arms and spread them wide, presenting the team like a host unveiling a rather unpleasant surprise.“And in the meantime…” his smile sharpened, “…you get us.”Lirien threw his head back and laughed, harsh and mocking. Frost rimed his armor, fire bled through the cracks, lightning skittered across his limbs until the air itself tasted like a storm.“I remember th

In an instant, the two figures became streaks of motion, blurring across the battlefield as the ground beneath them shattered with each explosive clash. Dust, stone, and molten energy erupted in every direction, carving scars into the earth that would last long after the fight.Elynora’s boost surged through Tharon, amplifying every sinew and nerve in his body. Combined with his enhanced form—as a former demon reborn and his unknown innate ability—his speed escalated to staggering levels, each movement a streak of blue and gold fire. Against Malivern, who relied on raw power and precision, Tharon now had the edge in sheer velocity.Skill, too, was on his side. Once the strongest and leader of the Darkbloods, his mastery of the blade was peerless. Every strike, parry, and feint was a lesson in lethal elegance, a dance of violence honed to perfection. Malivern might have been powerful, but Tharon’s lightning-fast swordplay and tactical brilliance turned the battlefield into his personal