Lightning cracked across the void while the serpent's horrifying hiss climbed between the rolling booms, and the spectators, caught between terror and exhilaration, held their breath as the raw clash of power lit their faces and set every nerve on edge; the smell of hot ozone hung around them, and the light strobed hard enough to leave pale ghosts in their eyes.
"Hahaha, look at our Lady fighting a Rank 4 Spark alone," the Lunari Practitioners shouted, triumph swelling as they flaunted their pride before the other races. A Rank 3 Practitioner challenging a Rank 4 and seeming to hold the upper hand was the kind of story they would repeat for generations, polished a little brighter each time.
Across from them, the Gorathim did not answer. Astonishment was plain, yet pride kept them steady, and every gaze fixed on Brakhtar's second head, which now sat beside the first as if it had always belonged there.
