The searing white flash subsided, leaving behind spots dancing in the void and the sharp, biting smell of ozone. The swamp air, usually thick and heavy, now crackled with residual energy.
Leonard hung in the air, feet slightly off the ground, his body a conduit for raw, untamed power. The blinding light now coalesced around his hands, no longer just crackling sparks, but writhing tendrils of pure, white-hot lightning, twisting and snapping like living creatures. His eyes were still blank voids of storm energy.
Fleshripper, kneeling, paralyzed by terror and the overwhelming power radiating from Leonard, could only watch.
Leonard raised his hands, palms facing the doomed Gnoll. The lightning intensified, the sound escalating from a crackle to a deafening roar of raw energy. Then, he unleashed.
