"You should have remained hidden," William's voice thundered, filled with both wrath and righteousness, "and never dared to show your face again."
From his storage ring, he pulled forth a massive sword—its blade etched with ancient, glowing inscriptions that pulsed with war intent. The heavy weapon gleamed under the fractured light of the ruined city, its edge singing with the hunger for battle. His aura rose higher still, every ounce of it locked onto Ballion.
"Oh?" Ballion tilted his head back and laughed, his voice echoing with amusement, ancient and terrible. "So you want to fight me? No… you want to kill me?" His aura surged in response, crackling with sinister power.
The ground beneath him blackened, stone melting into tar as demonic energy spilled outward. His presence pressed against William's, two titanic forces clashing invisibly in the air, sparks of destruction snapping between them.
