It was a successful ambush.
All Demigods from the enemy force were caught off guard and were spread throughout the water dome.
Alexander smiled and raised his fist above his head; the air around it screamed as immortal energy surged from the depths of his core. A torrent of crimson and white that spiraled up his arm—and pooled in his knuckles with such density that his skin split like sun-baked earth.
The cracks glowed.
Not with blood, but with molten light of a furnace barely contained; like lava coursing through his veins.
He held the first there for a fleeting heartbeat; a hammer poised above the anvil of the world—and then brought it down with strength. The blow struck the obsidian dragon on its very thick neck, and the crack didn't stop at impact.
