Villain Ch 1791. Your Pain Doesn't Make You Right
Allen appeared behind it.
"Soul Siphon."
A black tether snapped into place. Life force ripped through the channel, pouring into Allen in pulses.
Caelreth roared again, this time in agony.
He spun, wings flaring out—
Chains spiraling toward Allen like spears.
But Allen ducked, weaved, leapt, and slammed his blade through one of the chains mid-air, severing it with a shriek of cursed metal.
His wings flared.
He went up.
'Demonic Lances.'
Black spears of energy materialized above him—dozens—then hundreds.
He pointed.
They rained down like a meteor storm.
Each lance struck like a cruise missile, slamming into Caelreth's twisted frame. Each impact blew away parts of armor, flesh, shadow.
He staggered.
Snarled.
And then surged again—cleaving through revenants, throwing Shea into the wall, grabbing Zoe's tentacle and ripping it free.
But Allen didn't stop.
He landed.
Rolled.
Charged.
