Gorgana wasn't speaking; she was practically shrieking, resembling a god of death as her small vessel hovered in the air. When her words concluded, the swords launched forward like arrows, yearning to puncture Mel's vessel full of holes. Confronting the phenomenon unfolding in a matter of seconds, Mel deciphered that fleeing was an impossibility; even if the mud couldn't suppress him, the Dark Energy would severely retard his maneuvers, and the Heir actively opted to absorb this assault right where he stood.
His choice might have been flawless or catastrophically wrong, but he would never know, because a dark green storm surging from the valley breached the space between them and hurled the swords straight up into the sky. The technique, imposing enough to single-handedly slaughter a small squad, was condemned to dissipate against the violent wind.
