Seraphine chose that moment to condense a second weapon—another long sword.
Death power boiled along the edge, so heavy it pressed the surrounding light downward. She gripped the hilt with both hands, eyes locked ahead, ready to layer a second strike onto the energy sphere.
Maelor saw the angel silhouette redirect its spear. He froze for a beat—then threw his head back and burst out laughing.
A target that big… and they still missed him?
"You seriously whiffed that?"
He watched the golden spear veer off his line, and his laughter got even nastier.
"I can't even look at this!"
Maelor didn't take the energy sphere seriously.
To him, it was just fire, lightning, and wind—stuffed together by force. One clean slash and he'd split it apart, along with the little pests hiding behind it.
"You—die!"
The dragon-horn sword chopped down.
