Looking directly into Galen's burning irises, Eliv managed to heal his vocal cords just enough to twitch his ruined lips, barely moving what was left of them.
"Y... you... you... a-are... going... to s-soon... fi... find... out... that the... stre...strength you have... is nothing... compared to foes you've never faced..." he rasped, each syllable raw, fragile, barely audible over the crackling remnants of the battlefield.
"N-no... ma...matter how strong... you think... you are... there will always... be someone... stronger..."
Galen stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head slightly. A small smirk crept across his lips as he rose from his crouch.
"Well," he said, rising to his full height again, voice calm and steady, "you're right. Maybe there's someone out there who could push me."
He extended his hand toward Eliv, a red-orange sigil pulsing to life in the center of his palm, glowing hotter with every breath.
