With a roar that tore from his very soul, Telmus channeled the pain of the lightning strike while using its chaotic energy as a catalyst. He didn't fight the vines binding him; he focused his entire being into a single, upward diagonal cut with his will-blade. It was a cut that sought to divide the very sky, to sever fate itself.
This was the first time he was doing something like this, and even with his comprehension, there was a chance for failure; however, a quiet power of the cold breeze and the green leaves surrounding him seemed to aid his sword, and the move that was nearing perfection, instantly became perfect.
The blade passed through the vines, through the air, through the approaching vessel of Anthesterion, and through the crackling form of Hekaton in a single, flawless motion.
