"Death comes for all mortals."
The commander descended like a god of ruin. Its void blade hummed with millions of trapped souls. Each swing tore ragged scars through the sky. Reality bled where darkness touched.
Leon gripped Shadow-edge until his knuckles went white. "You hear them? The souls screaming?"
"I hear victory," the commander replied. Void energy crackled around its form.
"Sick bastard."
"Practical survivor."
Ethella's storm magic no longer roared with authority. It hissed and faltered. Lightning barely formed barriers that bought seconds against the inevitable. He focused entirely on deflecting attacks, unable to launch a single bolt in retaliation.
"This isn't working," Ethella gasped. Blood streamed from his eyes where dimensional pressure had ruptured capillaries. "The void energy is eating through my neural pathways."
"Any bright ideas?" Leon asked while dodging another dimensional slash.
"Die fighting," Ethella replied. "That's all we have left."
