Chapter 79:
Xiniz stood at the summit like a storm given form, his blade alive with lightning—arcs of blue dancing along its edge like ravenous serpents.
His eyes were cold and razor-sharp, locked onto Elijah and Tristan with a predator's unwavering focus.
Each breath he drew stirred the air, thick with tension, the metallic tang of ozone slicing through their nostrils like a silent warning from the heavens.
Tristan spat blood onto the stone and wiped his mouth, a smear of crimson painting the back of his hand.
His stance held firm despite the dull, pulsing pain that thrummed through his ribs and spine.
His chest rose and fell in calm defiance. "He's fast," he muttered, voice low but gritty, eyes never leaving Xiniz.
Elijah stood slightly ahead, red eyes narrowing.
His voice was cool, composed—a result of The Monarch's Skill. "Yeah. Stick to support. You're not fast enough... or strong enough to take him head-on."
