From the fragments, a half-formed torso rose, barely held together by wild mana and stubborn hatred.
Its six eyes locked onto Draeven as it snarled, its voice a grinding whisper of stone and rage.
Draeven did not understand the words, but he could guess.
"If I die… you're coming with me!"
He growled and struggled against the grip.
Flames burst along his body, but the tendrils held firm.
The mana inside them refused to burn.
Then it detonated.
A blinding light swallowed everything.
The cavern shook as the explosion erupted outward, vaporizing the remains of Earth's body in an instant.
A wave of raw energy scorched stone, liquefied stalagmites, and sent shockwaves echoing down every tunnel.
When the dust settled, there was a crater.
At its center, charred, steaming, and half-buried beneath molten rubble, stood Draeven.
His armor was in tatters.
His skin was cracked and burned.
But he stood.
Still breathing.
Still grinning.
