Slam! Slam! Slam!
The [Guardian of Mist] pounded its twin spears into the ground again and again, each strike shaking the air, each echo rolling like thunder through the white fog.
The shockwaves splintered across the battlefield, breaking loose chunks of stone.
Stark barely moved.
His eyes stayed locked on the towering figure in front of him.
His grip on the staff didn't tighten or tremble.
He simply shifted his weight slightly to the left, just enough for the next spear to smash into the ground where his body had been half a second ago.
"..."
He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Instead, his mana pulsed, sharp, refined, perfectly timed.
Bind of Silk! Thorny Vines of Fate! Torrent of Lightning!
Three spells unfolded almost simultaneously, each one weaving seamlessly into the other.
Threads of white silk shot forward, snapping tight around the guardian's legs.
Vines laced with shimmering green thorns erupted from the ground, curling around its body.
