Nyrexis hit the air like a blade released from its scabbard.
The hammer met steel.
No echo—just the shuddering snap of impact compressed into a single, heavy instant. The ground beneath Demien fractured from the force that didn't land. Dust burst outward in rings.
Leon didn't blink.
Nyrexis didn't falter. Both hands locked around his dueling blade, boots gouging lines across the stone as he absorbed the full momentum of Vareth's ritual swing.
For a heartbeat, everything held.
Then Bladewraith materialized—no war cry, no sound—just a flash of void-wrapped motion behind Vareth's back.
Its dagger plunged between vertebrae, low and clean, slipping in through the first gap in corrupted plate. The blade stayed in.
Vareth snarled.
His spine twisted unnaturally—he pivoted without shifting his feet. One massive arm lashed backward.
Contact.
