The cavern trembled, the molten rivers glowing brighter as the air thickened with unrestrained power. The Elder knelt, chest heaving, his body still quivering from the humiliation of defeat. His Law of Wind had been shattered, his axe knocked aside like a child's toy, and before him stood the man who hadn't even drawn his true weapon.
Azariah's back was turned. He walked away, each step echoing with absolute indifference.
"Stop…" the Elder rasped, his voice breaking with fury. "I am… not finished!"
The air convulsed.
The Elder's body cracked, flesh splitting as veins glowed an unnatural green. His armor dissolved into fragments of wind, sucked into his skin. His back arched unnaturally, bones snapping, reforming. His face elongated, teeth sharpening into a beak. His silver hair burned into feathers of molten gold.
And then he screamed.
