Everyone stood still.
A silence, deep and suffocating, blanketed the battlefield like a heavy fog.
Even the remnants of the earlier battle—embers drifting through the air, dust swirling over craters, and faint vibrations from the retreating Dreadworms—seemed to hush in reverence for what was about to happen.
The floating swords behind Elius began to glow faintly, vibrating with that low, metallic hum.
Their tips trembled in the air, as if alive, as if waiting. And the moment Elius took a single step forward—
Soilandor's eyes widened.
Though his face was wrapped in layers of cracked linen and dried, flesh-like sand, something unmistakably human flashed in his expression.
Surprise.
"What?" the ancient mummy rasped, his voice just slightly tighter than before. "You're actually—?"
Before he could finish, Clint stood up with a painful groan and shouted, "Elius! Don't fall for his tricks! That thing's playing you!"
