The air turned thick, pulsing with supernatural tension as Zedrich, now partially fused with the infernal entity Satanis, exuded an evil so potent it felt like the earth itself groaned beneath his feet. Black and gold flames spiraled around him, and his eyes radiated pure malice.
Wulf stood with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his fists clenched and body marked with bruises and lacerations. Beside him, Isolde breathed heavily, her gaze unwavering despite the overwhelming pressure.
"We need more," Wulf muttered, eyes narrowing. "He's beyond everything we've fought."
Isolde nodded, but she didn't answer. Her palms glowed—and then pulsed with light. She closed her eyes and exhaled. The Enchantress within her—the Quas-blood entity she was bound to—laughed softly in her mind.
"Do you truly want to surpass your limits, child?" the Enchantress whispered, ethereal and alluring.
Isolde's eyes opened, fierce with determination. "I do. Fuse with me."
