"Alright, that's enough."
The word, a single, brittle shard, floated in the hollowed-out cavern of my mind. It wasn't a logical thought, not a conscious decision, but the last gasp of a soul bled dry, an echo of finality resonating through my very bones.
Every ounce of energy, every ember of rage, even the countless unspoken promises I'd made—all had evaporated, leaving me utterly adrift in a suffocating, soundless void.
My consciousness clung to the fraying edges of existence, a ragged flag fluttering against an impending storm.
I stood amidst the hushed ruins, the air thick with the aftertaste of annihilation. There was only one thing left in this space, once a maelstrom of battle and power, now steeped in an eerie, profound silence: a cold, gaping chasm.
Arthur was gone.
There was no thunderous implosion, no acrid scent of burning flesh, no dramatic burst of light marking the villain's demise.
