Lucian's figure materialized upon a distant moon, his ever-present smile lingering like a quiet declaration of dominance, as he fixed his gaze upon the Angel, who had now unleashed the full breadth of its formidable power. Yet, Lucian made no dramatic display of his mana; he remained poised, composed, as though waiting for the Angel to deliver its retaliatory strike.
And retaliate, the Angel did.
The expanse of its wings expanded dramatically, each feather crystallizing, stiffening, and orienting itself with deadly precision toward Lucian, as if guided by an unseen homing signal. Without hesitation, the feathers launched forward, faster than sound, faster than thought, tearing through the void with lethal intent. They appeared in the millions, a swirling storm of immaculate white, ready to pierce and shred Lucian without mercy.
