The storm of runes still raged in the sky, as if the firmament itself had been transformed into a battlefield. Crimson circles spun like the gears of a primordial clock, spitting out copies of Scathach in endless swarms. Each punch, each kick, each blast of energy set the surrounding space ablaze, shattering floating rocks and evaporating what sea remained.
In the center of that inferno, Strax roared, bloodied, covered in wounds, but still standing. His eyes burned an intense green, his fury almost boiling over. Zani vibrated in his hand, spitting lines of energy in ecstasy, calling for destruction.
And that was exactly what Scathach wanted.
From above, the real Scathach watched with a savage smile, her arms spread wide in exaltation. The runes on her skin burned like rivers of lava, and her voice echoed like a thousand war drums:
"YES!" THIS, STRAX! GET LOST! BE THE BEAST YOU WERE BORN TO BE!
