Chapter 143: Personal Saintess
Ethan's blade thrummed with flame and aura, the air around him warping from the heat.
"Ethan! Put your stat points into Strength!" Lirael's voice rang sharp in his mind. "You can end this instantly!"
Ethan grinned, sweat streaking down his scorched face. "No… where's the fun in that? I want to finish him like this. Just watch."
The orc warlord staggered, his cleaver dragging a scar through the dirt. The ruined socket where Lirael's arrow had bored through was already bubbling with fresh tissue, but his arm—severed at the shoulder—remained nothing but a charred stump. Desperation flared in his one good eye. He roared and reached for the blackened flesh, trying to rip it away so his regeneration could take over.
Ethan's voice cut across the battlefield, low and sharp. "I'm not letting you have that chance."
