Ember's golden sword energy was torn apart by a sharp crescent of light.
Ethan stood quietly in midair, Moonflood Scythe held loosely in his hand, its blade reflecting a cold, flowing radiance like moonlight submerged beneath an abyssal sea.
The Supreme Prisoner's Heavenly Lock had already been forcibly ripped apart.
Axel stood in front of Ember, hands clasped behind his back, effortlessly dispersing the weakened remnants of the Star of Great Stillness. Though the fireball had been split and its power reduced by nearly half, the fact that it could still threaten Ember at all was already an absurdity.
Now, however, everything had changed.
The aura emanating from Axel was no longer that of a dying elder.
It was vast, ancient, and tyrannical—like a slumbering sun rising once more after countless eras.
The ancestral soul of the Golden Phoenix clan had fully descended.
