The air smelled like metal and fire.
Smoke clung to Isaac's skin. Every breath scorched his lungs. His arms trembled from strain, his back still seared from shielding Aiah.
Pain was everywhere.
Across the battlefield, King Geoffrey stood tall, relaxed, unscathed, arrogant.
Not even breathing hard.
Aiah gritted her teeth and summoned a spear of flame, hurling it with everything she had.
Geoffrey swatted it aside with a casual flick of lightning, as if brushing dust from his shoulder.
Isaac stepped in. No hesitation. No skills ready. Just grit, blood, and rage.
He charged…
Geoffrey was ready, arms raised, lightning coiled around his fists like hunting serpents.
CRACK!
A bolt tore the sky and streaked toward Isaac.
He didn't dodge. He stepped through it.
The electricity ripped across his shoulder, skin bubbling, nerves shrieking, but he was already in range. His left sickle came down in a vicious arc.
CLANG!
