As the last flickers of dust spiraled downward from the cavernous ceiling, the world hung suspended in an eerie, stretched-out moment.
The earth still trembled beneath their feet, the scorched air thick with magic, smoke, and the bitter taste of ozone.
Amid the wreckage of the barrier and the ruin of the crystalline seal, Elius emerged like a deity reborn from war and shadows.
Light peeled away from his skin in strands, curling like vapor from molten steel.
"Hmmm, I still feel weird about this swapping thing…"
His eyes gleamed with raw spiritual fire, twin suns behind cold pupils that had seen countless deaths—and now, hungered for more.
He stood still.
Unmoving.
Breathing.
And then, softly, his voice broke through the settling silence.
"I didn't expect," he murmured, almost to himself, "that switching with the clone would feel like this molting kind of thing…"
