Naval's shout cut like thunder through the grinding silence.
He spun his trident, leaping into the pull of the Maw instead of away from it. The sea's fury roared through his veins, and a spiral of tidal resonance exploded outward from his weapon.
"Then drown on me!"
The surge was not mere water—it was the oath of the deep, the unbroken rhythm of storms that had never yielded. It crashed into Glothar's devouring pull, forcing the black fire to choke on the taste of an ocean that would not end.
Glothar's helm snapped toward him, crimson slits narrowing. The Maw behind the Sovereign expanded, drinking in the tide, grinding it into mist. But as the hunger pulled, Roselia thrust her staff forward, her flame weaving through the ocean like blossoms in a storm.
Her hymn rose, her voice raw yet resolute. "Flame that burns beyond endings—ignite what cannot be swallowed!"
