The ground cracked beneath their feet, a billowing plume of dust rising up, obscuring their figures from the slithering creature. Leonidas sprinted towards the right side, while Willow headed leftwards, flanking it from both sides.
He could see why Willow had lost against it. It was massive, healed almost immediately, and was a Vis-ranked terror.
Not that he was going to lose.
Leonidas brandished Blush, twisting the blade while he focused inwards, the imaginative world unfurling. It was in its base form—when Leonidas hadn't interfered with it—a black void, darker than even darkness itself.
Leonidas shifted his hands, arms moving as if he were painting on an invisible canvas. His movements were fluid, each connecting to the other, eyes fixed on the plethora of roses forming around him, slowly taking shape.
