Greg halted his downward strike midway through the motion, his muscles tensing as he swiftly dodged a brilliant golden blast of energy hurtling toward him, the attack scorching the air with a sizzling hiss.
"I'm not done with you yet," Number 17 snarled coldly, his piercing stare fixed on Greg with unyielding malice, the sting of humiliation from being kicked earlier burning like acid in his veins, demanding brutal repayment.
Greg came to a standstill in his adjusted position, his golden eyes scanning the surroundings to realize he was completely encircled by a swarm of Shadow slaves, their dark forms closing in from every angle like a living noose tightening around him.
Opening his mouth wide, he prepared to unleash another torrent of dragon flames, the heat building in his throat like a gathering inferno, but he stopped abruptly, the action cut short by an unexpected shift in the battlefield.
