The cursed soul lunged.
It wasn't just movement—it was violence given form. A flash of red and black streaked through the courtyard like lightning trapped inside flesh. The air cracked, marble tiles splintered, and the ground trembled as Emil barely rolled aside.
The blood-forged sword sliced past, so close he felt the heat of its energy brush his face. It tore through the marble wall behind him like it was paper.
"Scatter!" Emil shouted, voice cutting through the chaos.
Riven reacted first. One moment he was beside Emil, the next he blurred forward—a streak of motion so clean it barely made sound. His sword met the cursed soul's from behind, the clang of metal shaking the air.
Sparks burst like fireworks, painting their faces in flashes of white and orange. Riven's eyes were steady, focused, unreadable. He pushed with both hands, muscles tensed, teeth gritted.
