"ZNNNN—!"
The shrill scream of flesh being torn apart echoed across the battlefield as the Aztorus King drove an obsidian bone sword straight through the chest of the Kalous King.
Lortar managed to grab the blade and, using all his power, he stopped it from moving down.
The blade was grotesque and ancient. Its surface looked like polished fossilized bone, black as voidstone, and embedded within its hilt was a single living eye. That eye pulsed rhythmically, radiating temporal power so dense and refined that even the aura of Eonar himself was overshadowed by it.
Time warped around the weapon.
Space trembled.
A flash of dread crossed Lortar's eyes the instant he recognized it.
"You brought the Blade of the End of Times to this fight…" the Kalous King growled, blood spilling from his lips. "I thought your kingdom had sealed it away after the Omen Soul inside went berserk and devoured the old King of Aztorus."
Eonar smiled.
It was cold.
And proud.
