For the first time, something shifted in Rak'tharion's eyes.
That look of pure contempt didn't disappear, but there was a new weight behind it now—thin as a hairline crack, but real.
He could feel it clearly. This power didn't belong to any normal energy system. It was older. Deeper. Closer to the root of everything.
The presence leaking off that white lightning made his energy core twitch with instinctive unease.
"How unexpected." Rak'tharion spoke slowly, his voice low and icy. "A mere creature from a low-grade Plane World… and you can actually control this kind of power."
He raised one hand.
The air around his fingers stiffened as if it had flash-frozen. Deep red energy stretched out from his palm, gathering, condensing—until it formed a scepter.
