The ruins trembled as if the stones themselves had absorbed the clash of fragments, caught in the violent rhythm of power colliding. Dust sifted down from jagged walls, settling over moss-slick floors and broken pillars, the faint glow of ancient glyphs flickering in and out like dying embers struggling to stay alive. Shadows twisted in the corners, pulled by currents of unseen energy, as though the ruin itself was alive, watching, listening.
Leo pushed himself upright, lungs heaving, each inhalation tasting of ash, iron, and burnt stone. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, arms trembled violently, legs quivered beneath the weight of exhaustion, but he forced himself to stand. His sword felt impossibly heavy in his hands, as if the blade had absorbed the ruin's wrath and multiplied it tenfold.
