Nebula barely managed to bring up his arm. The impact snapped bone, sent him flying backward through a pillar of molten stone.
He hit the ground hard, sliding through the mud, coughing blood.
Cain trudged after him, dragging his weapon behind. The rain hissed against the blade's heat, steam rising in thick plumes.
Nebula forced himself up, one knee digging into the ground. His breathing was ragged, erratic.
"I could've… ended this from the start," he muttered. "You're not the only one with tricks."
Cain tilted his head. "So why didn't you?"
Nebula's grin was cracked and bloody. "Because I wanted to see what you'd do without your mana. To see if the stories were worth anything."
"And?"
Nebula chuckled weakly. "They weren't exaggerated."
Cain's expression didn't change. He raised {Eidwyrm}.
Nebula raised his arm.
For a moment, it looked like both were about to throw everything they had left.
