The darkness came without warning.
It struck like a meteor — sudden, absolute, and merciless. Before Meylin or Amazo could comprehend what was happening, the impact hurled them both in opposite directions.
The sword was wrenched from Amazo's chest as his body flew backward. Jets of golden blood erupted from the wound, the damage so immense that the light in his eyes dimmed, his consciousness slipping away into the deep black of a coma. The fact that he was still alive after having his heart pierced was proof of how monstrous his vitality truly was.
Meylin, on the other hand, barely survived the blast. The strike nearly pulped her body, her limbs twisted and bones groaning under the strain. Only the burning resilience of her Depravita Aura and the life force coming from the Scarlet Throne kept her from collapsing entirely, its light knitting her flesh together.
Her vision blurred, but Meylin clenched her teeth, forcing the haze away. Her breathing steadied; her mind sharpened.
