The moon hung like a cold, silver eye over the battlefield, casting long shadows across the wreckage. High above, Sunny stood suspended in the air, his silhouette a sharp inkblot against the lunar glow. He looked down at the carnage with a deepening frown, his eyes tracing the jagged, violet-black spirit energy leaking from the massive stone creature below.
'What did he use? Is that some kind of forbidden skill?' He thought, his frown deepening. The energy wasn't just celestial; it was dense, stagnant, and carried the stench of forced evolution.
Below, Morgana stood at the center of the devastation. She looked less like a warrior and more like a bored spectator at a failing theater production. She idly toyed with a lock of her hair as the eight-meter-tall gargoyle loomed over her, its breath rattling like grinding tectonic plates.
