Bruce's mana had already embedded itself deep within the entity's core. Soul Shatter was not a strike that ended at impact. It was a detonation seeded at the center of existence itself.
The escaping fragments were still connected. Still burning in pain. Still caught.
The elven soul twisted mid-air, its features contorting in horror as realization dawned. Its once-composed face warped into something feral and terrified, elegant lines dissolving into panic.
'What is this skill?! How?!' The thought never finished.
Bruce didn't blink. He didn't hesitate. His expression remained steady, eyes cold and focused as a surgeon closing in on malignant tissue.
He pushed more mana through his palm. The cracks widened. Infusing more mana to keep soul shatter active.
Light burst from the fractures, not radiant and holy, but violent and precise, like fault lines splitting under unbearable pressure. The entity's outline destabilized, its edges fragmenting into shards of translucent crimson.
