Venedix subtly raised both of her swords, her arms steady as the blades began to whirr louder and louder, the sound like a pair of storms cracking against each other.
Crimson lightning coiled across the metal, twisting like serpents as each current wrapped tightly around the blades.
The ground beneath her feet started to tremble, soft at first but growing stronger.
The very air around her felt heavier—charged with the weight of something ancient and wrathful, like a storm building before the downpour.
The lightning didn't stop.
It grew, pulsing with intensity as if the swords themselves were alive, feeding off Venedix's will.
They weren't just weapons anymore.
They were conduits for something far greater.
Malgareth didn't wait to find out what.
He charged.
His armored form tore through the air like a black arrow, aiming straight at Venedix before she could complete her transformation.
