The harbor no longer resembled Pearlbay. It was a battlefield carved by gods and monsters. Broken ships lay half-swallowed by the tide, houses sagged like ribs torn from a carcass, and the air was a fever of salt, ash, and lightning.
Thal'ryx writhed in the shallows, a mass of obsidian flesh and bleeding fissures. Its body dwarfed mountains, yet its roars carried something new pain. For the first time in centuries, the abyssal tyrant bled.
Still, the beast did not fall. Its tail rose, trembling yet monstrous, each scale glistening with black-crimson Shinrei. The strike it prepared could erase the entire village in one sweep.
Khael stood at the center, sword in hand, boots buried in cracked stone. His aura burned like a second sun, shadowed by the outline of colossal wings unfurling behind him.
"This ends now." His voice carried like judgment, not merely words.
