The wind still howled.
Scorching sand whipped into spirals, swirling around Ethan like a living thing.
He hovered high above the battlefield, golden-red light streaming from his palm—the last of his power, drawn tight and burning hot.
The Lizardman staggered in the distance.
His armor was cracked all over, lightning flickering through the fractures like dying serpents writhing in their final throes.
He gasped for breath, chest heaving, the light in his eyes beginning to flicker.
Ethan's gaze was ice.
"So this… is your limit."
He raised the Scepter of the Fey Sovereign.
A low hum answered.
The runes etched along the staff flared to life, dozens of beams weaving together midair, forming a radiant bow. The string pulsed like a heartbeat, tugging at the air with a shrill, vibrating whine.
This time, Ethan didn't hesitate.
He drew the bow—energy surged into the arrow like a tide crashing backward.
