The underground throne room was already wrecked—pillars shattered, dust choking the air, the ceiling sagging under the strain.
But Su-Bin wasn't slowing down.
His body rippled again, stone armor crawling across his chest, flames bursting from his shoulders. Lightning arced from his fingertips, carving cracks of pure white across the walls. His eyes glowed blood-red, manic, unstable.
"You don't understand!" he roared, voice shaking the chamber. "Seoul *needs me!* Without my power, this city is nothing but corpses waiting to rot!"
I spat blood, grinning despite the ache in my ribs. "Big speech for someone who can't even stand straight."
His face twisted. "I'll show you who can't stand."
He blurred forward—speed ability kicking in—so fast the air boomed. His fist, wrapped in stone and fire, aimed for my head.
Instinct screamed.
