At the southern battleground, stars twinkled beneath the veiled galaxy like fragments of polished crystal scattered across obsidian silk, casting a haunting shimmer over the darkened landscape. Nyxander hovered mid-air, suspended just inches above the cracked earth, his right fist clenched tightly against the open palm of the Beast King's colossal hand. His teeth ground together in effort, jaw grinding with silent rage as the force around his blow dissipated, like mist under sunlight. Tremors rattled down his arm, leaving his knuckles trembling like a flame caught in a storm wind., his widened eyes flickering between disbelief and dismay, a silent war of emotion behind narrowed gaze.
The Beast King stood resolute, unshaken, as though the clash had meant nothing more than a passing breeze. "Why do I feel sickening weakness crawling along my right arm... to the point of trembling?" Nyxander wondered, buried in the turmoil of his thoughts.
