The moment the Emperor stepped beside me, the atmosphere changed.
Not just around us.
Inside us.
His presence didn't merely radiate power—it reshaped the space itself, bending pressure and mana currents toward a singular point. The dimension, already fractured from the relentless battle, shuddered as if refusing to withstand the union of two incompatible worlds.
My breath caught.
This was it.
The beginning of the Unison Raid.
A technique forbidden, dangerous, and nearly forgotten—not because it was weak, but because it was too strong. Too demanding. Too unforgiving. A gamble with everything on the line.
The Emperor didn't speak.He didn't need to.
Aamon's roar echoed through the collapsing palace, long and thunderous, as streams of dark mana curled around him like serpents preparing to devour the sky. His aura writhed violently, tearing cracks in the crumbling terrain.
He was preparing a final blow.
Which meant we had only seconds.
