Alistair's smile was a cruel, confident slash across his face. He saw the exhaustion in Lucian's stance, the tremor in his raised hand. This was a formality. An annoyance.
"You are a ghost trying to block a hurricane," Alistair said, his voice layered with the whispers of the Vault's escaped horrors. He didn't even bother with a fighting stance. He simply began to gather the dark, swirling energy around him, ready to obliterate his son with a single, contemptuous blast.
But then, a soft chime echoed in Lucian's mind.
[System Notice: Health and Mana fully restored.]
[Notice: All debuffs cleansed.]
Lucian didn't question it. He didn't have time to. He felt the fire of his power, which had been a dying ember, roar back to life. The fatigue vanished from his muscles. The mental fog cleared. It was Cael's final, silent intervention.
Alistair's eyes widened a fraction as he felt the sudden surge of power from his son. The confident smirk faltered.
