Sparks bled from the dragon's hands, not harmless little sparks but violent arcs that lit the snow like wildfire. Each crack of electricity rattled Trafalgar's bones. He didn't even want to guess how many volts a monster like this could throw—because one wrong hit, and he'd be nothing but ash.
The dragon lifted his arm casually, as though swatting away a fly, and lightning condensed into a long, spear-like shape. A hiss filled the valley. Then it launched forward.
[Lightning Spear]
Trafalgar's eyes widened, but Valttair didn't flinch. His sword angled slightly, no wasted movement, just a precise shift of his wrist. The spear deflected cleanly, veering off into the mountainside behind him.
Stone didn't just crack—it screamed. The mountain face reshaped itself, torn open by the force, leaving a gaping cavern where there had only been rock.
The dragon laughed, and another spear formed instantly. Then another.
