The battle had reached a crescendo that pushed every combatant beyond their previous limits. Arthur Nightingale stood at the center of competing forces, his body wreathed in Grey that pulsed with each labored heartbeat while blood streamed freely from his eyes and nose. The broken Unity that allowed him to channel the impossible fusion of Deepdark and Purelight outside his Domain was consuming his life force at an exponential rate.
"You're dying," Gideon observed with clinical detachment, his burning eyes tracking the way Arthur's body trembled with each use of Grey. "Every technique brings you closer to complete collapse. How much longer can you maintain this charade?"
Arthur wiped blood from his mouth, his grip on Nyxthar steady despite the agony. Around him, his allies fought with desperate precision. Rachel's Purelight blazed in waves that made Gideon's corruption recoil, while Erebus and Luna moved with coordinated grace that spoke to centuries of combat experience.
