Ethan shifted sideways at once.
He didn't try to tank it. He flashed to the side, and the lightning over his skin snapped inward, gathering fast. White arcs ran down from his shoulders, weaving together into layered barriers that wrapped around him like armor.
The transparent energy sphere skimmed past along the line of his dodge.
But the aftershock still slammed into his lightning shield.
The instant they touched, ripples spread across the barrier's surface. Inside the sphere, that corrosive force began eating into the arc structure itself.
Cracks tore through the lightning—several of them at once. The white light broke in uneven segments. His defense was forcibly compressed, shuddering under the pressure.
The impact kept spreading.
The whole sky twisted violently as the two forces ground against each other.
Ethan's eyes widened.
That shield—woven from white thunder-light—had always been one of his most direct, most domineering defensive methods.
