The spear left his hand and became something else entirely. It was no longer a weapon moving through air. It was a streak of pure purple destruction.
It tore through the air with a sound like the sky being split open. The air beneath its path distorted from the heat alone as it passed over.
It reached Amon in a flash. Amon had not moved.
He stood exactly where he had been standing, black void eyes watching the blazing spear cross the sky toward him with no change in expression.
He simply watched it come. At the last possible moment, his left hand rose. His fingers closed around the shaft of the spear in blink of an eye.
The purple flames of destruction, the flames that had been burning blood all throughout this fight, the flames that had been slowly consuming Amon's body and resisting everything Vetaal threw at them, erupted across his hand and arm in an immediate violent surge.
