The sky howled.
Malgeirith screeched above, wings wide, its huge body tearing through the clouds. Bel took a breath, steady and sharp, fire already curling around his boots.
Wind. Obviously. Like every other elemental boss he fought, it gave out its element right from the start.
That screech, the way the dungeon trembled, the thick pressure in the air. Wind, no doubt.
Which meant...
Fire should work just fine.
Bel ignited his sword. Flames danced along the black blade, burning hotter with every passing second.
His aura flared up around him.
Malgeirith beat its wings, and a massive tempest exploded across the field. The gust hit Bel like a battering ram, forcing him to dig his feet into the cracked stone.
He narrowed his eyes, squinting into the raging wind.
[Pressure Ineffective]
Bel clicked his tongue. No surprise there.
Fine. Plan B.
[Bolt Mode]
His feet left the ground with a crackle of electricity.
