The ground trembled as Julian and Leo continued their deadly dance, lightning and frost tearing through the battlefield in chaotic harmony. Each blow echoed like thunder, each step leaving craters of molten stone or ice.
Meanwhile, not far away, Glain sat slumped against a mound of twisted roots, his breathing uneven. His druidic aura flickered weakly, its once vibrant green now dim and pale. Rafael knelt beside him, his face covered in sweat and dust.
"Don't you dare die on me, old man," Rafael said, his voice trembling. "You can't just—"
Glain gave a faint chuckle, the kind only a tired soul could make. "Hah...Do not panic Rafael."
As he spoke, vines and glowing leaves began to sprout around Rafael, wrapping gently around his arms and chest. The soft warmth of healing light seeped into his wounds.
Rafael's eyes widened. "Stop… Don't use your strength on me. I'm fine. You're the one who needs to rest."
