While the fighters below struggled against the endless debris and searched desperately for a way to counter the spreading time distortion, the battle above unfolded on a far crueler level.
High in the fractured sky, Erend, Eccar, and Aesa faced the source of it all. And it was far worse.
Down below, time bent in pockets and loops while throwing the debris at them. Here, it ruled the whole sky.
Zerathul remained in his finalized form while floating effortlessly amid warped space.
He did not advance to then. He did not brace or prepare. He simply hovered there with a relaxed and almost amused manner, as if the three Dragons before him were no more than an inconvenience.
Gold-lined fractures pulsed along his body in slow rhythm. Each pulse sent invisible waves through reality, tightening his hold over causality.
He did not need to move because the time power did the fighting for him.
