At this moment, Zarek was already pouring everything he had into his sword. Its sharpness was beyond comparison but so was the backlash.
Each swing felt like it was tearing his body apart, as if death itself was pressing in with every heartbeat. His muscles screamed, his bones threatened to shatter, and yet his grip did not loosen.
A low grunt escaped him, brows drawn into a deep frown.
With every breath, the backlash gnawed at his flesh and soul, but in that same moment, he was adapting. His body was adapting and getting stronger by every moment.
His raw strength surged once more, climbing to yet another peak.
In a few more breaths, his stance stabilised. The massive, blood-red blade rose high, its jagged edges with thorns catching the light, before Zarek leveled its point directly at the two Paragons.
The two telekinetic Paragons swallowed hard.
"Come," Zarek said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Let's fight."
