The clash tore the city in half.
Gold and black writhed against each other, two storms locked together, tearing stone and sky alike. The golden fire pressed harder, brighter, an endless tide. Lucy's black torrent cut through it, wild, jagged, burning in fits and bursts that even she could not predict.
Her arms trembled. Her knees shook. Blood streamed from her mouth. Her body screamed for her to stop.
But the markings pulsed harder.
Her horn split with light, the glow cracking into the night. Her violet eyes widened, then sharpened, then glazed—like something behind them snapped loose.
The black fire didn't crawl anymore. It exploded.
The torrent surged past her blade, past her control. It swallowed the golden fire whole, chewed through it, and kept going.
The Dragon King staggered back, his wings curling around him as the black storm tore into his chest. Scales ripped away in sheets, golden blood pouring out. His roar broke the air, deep and ragged.
