Darion felt it slipping.
The exchanges before had made that much clear. No matter how many times he pressed, no matter how aggressively he tried to force an opening, nothing stuck. Trafalgar was always there, always just out of reach, reading him a fraction faster than he could adjust.
So Darion stopped playing that game.
Mana surged outward from his core, sharp and forceful, flooding into his arms and blade as he planted his feet and committed fully. The shift was immediate. Those watching felt it in their bones.
Darion activated [Morgain's Requiem].
The first cut carved a wide arc through the air, releasing a curved black wave that expanded outward with controlled violence. The space around them filled instantly with pressure, shadows slicing through the hall in intersecting paths meant to deny movement entirely.
Trafalgar stepped into it.
Mana flowed into Maledicta without hesitation, his blade moving into the exact same opening motion.
[Morgain's Requiem].
