The white flames rose like celestial columns, torrents of destruction that not only burned but disintegrated the reality around them. The sky reacted with thunderclaps of pure fury, and even the clouds parted, as if afraid to touch this insane display of power.
Strax took a step back.
His entire body screamed in warning. This wasn't just magic. It wasn't just fire. It was a kind of primordial energy, something the gods themselves would have sealed away for fear of the consequences.
Dutch was no longer smiling. His eyes shone like twin suns amidst the smoke. The once mocking laughter had died away. Now there was only the silence of certainty. The certainty that he had decided to end everything.
And that was when he attacked.
White fire exploded from his hands like a heavenly blast. Strax tried to move, but the attack wasn't just swift—it was inevitable. A flash of flame sliced through the air, and even as he tried to dodge it, the edge of the flame touched his left arm.
