Luciel's grip on Zephyros tightened, his storm-infused aura writhing with barely contained fury. He had been toying with Ethan before, confident in his overwhelming power. But now—now—the battlefield had changed.
Ethan stood tall, his final Sync complete, his presence no longer that of an Emperor Realm warrior struggling to survive. No—he had become something else entirely.
His warhammer, now pulsing with creation, blood, and raw sound, radiated an oppressive force that sent tremors across the frozen wasteland. With every breath, the air vibrated, the frequency of his existence distorting reality itself.
Luciel narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what you're doing, Ethan Smith."
Ethan exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. "And you don't know what's coming for you."
BOOM!
Ethan moved—faster than sound itself.
One moment, he was yards away—the next, his warhammer was already swinging.
