Terror finally broke through on Xarvok's face.
"That's impossible!"
He stared at Ethan, voice shaking.
"We're both outside the Infernal Abyss. Our demonic power should be leaking away every day. So why is yours still that dense?!"
He understood it perfectly—if this dragged on, he would die.
He was only a remnant soul, squatting in someone else's body. He couldn't afford sustained consumption.
But Ethan's power showed no sign of drying up. If anything, the longer they fought, the heavier it became—denser, purer, more tyrannical with every exchange.
Ethan didn't give him space to retreat.
Ghastly white lightning detonated under Ethan's feet, and he flashed right in front of Xarvok. One hand clamped down on Xarvok's head. As Ethan's five fingers locked, transparent electric light and ghastly white lightning poured straight from his palm into Xarvok's body.
"You talk too much," Ethan said coldly.
"And you're not getting an answer."
