Chapter 273
The three kept hammering the fire dragon, tearing it apart piece by piece but even shredded, a massive chunk still plummeted straight down toward them.
Before it could crash, a figure flashed in front of it. Blades swung splitting, multiplying....until several deadly strikes rained down.
"Fifty Splitting Strikes," Ronan growled.
The flames disintegrated.
Ronan stood tall, holding a blade darker than night. His armor was gone transformed into this dread weapon. The two swords he once wielded had been destroyed in his battle with Magus. Now, only this remained.
"You good already?" Little One asked, panting.
Ronan gave a curt nod. Not good, not really but good enough. In the few minutes of breathing room he'd stolen, he'd forced his battered body to circulate energy, ease the pain, and patch his wrecked insides. Agonizing, brutal but he managed. He had to.
