"GO TO HELL!"
Valerius's taunt was answered by Edward's ice-cold killing intent.
From within the mimicked formation, twenty identical guardians of raw magic surged forth, meeting the Cult of Four's elemental legion in a cataclysmic collision of force.
The sky above Staghelm City was now dominated by two massive, interlocking rings of light—one real, one a perfect reflection. Within that celestial arena, dozens of terrifying, demigod-level entities were locked in a fight to the death.
Down below, watching from the city, Isilra and Moonwell demigod could only stare, aghast. It wasn't the scale of the battle that shocked them; it was the chilling, inescapable dread it inspired.
Isilra couldn't dare to imagine it: if the Champions Alliance hadn't come, how long could she and her mother have possibly survived against a formation like that? A minute? Maybe two?
