The castle grounds shook as Luther and Xavier collided again. There was no finesse in Xavier's strikes anymore—just violence. The Serpent's Fang had become an extension of his rage, cutting through everything in front of him, stone, metal, air. Every movement was brutal, wild, and unpredictable. He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to destroy.
Luther blocked, twisted, countered, but each hit came harder than the last. When Xavier's clawed hand caught his blade, Luther felt the pressure tremble through his bones. The air burst around them, and pieces of the ground tore free like shrapnel.
Xavier roared and rushed him again, smashing through a row of pillars like they were paper. His body moved like a beast—hunched, heavy, fast. His mind was gone, replaced by raw instinct. The Serpent's Fang lashed like a whip, biting into the ground, leaving a deep scar every time it struck.
