Lightning danced wildly across the young man's body, crackling like a thousand silver serpents coiling around him. The glow grew blinding, turning the night into day, casting everything around him in stark white brilliance.
Then—he moved.
In a blink, he vanished from where he stood, launching himself solo into the heart of the Zombie Horde.
Wherever he passed, the ground split and cracked beneath his feet, the air itself howling in protest like a thunderstorm tearing through the sky.
Zombies nearby were blasted away like rag dolls.
Any that touched the lightning were instantly scorched, their bodies charred black, smoke curling off them in thick, acrid plumes.
The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
He tore through the undead like a living storm, scattering the horde with nothing but raw power. Alone, he carved a path through the chaos, unstoppable.
"Hell yeah, Thunderclaw!" someone shouted from behind, awe in their voice.
