They went for the legs.
Where real victory could be born.
The youth reached for the stars, aiming to grasp the greatest potential benefit while accepting high risks.
The wise aimed for a critical location where they could still wreak havoc and have much greater chances of success.
...
Above the battlefield, drenched in fire and madness, the corrupted god turned his gaze toward the two streaks of rebellion racing toward him. One of them was cloaked in blazing elemental harmony while the other trailed a flaming cloak like the comet-tail of a sun.
Quinlan and Serika.
Two mortals who dared to defy him.
His cracked skull twisted into a grin.
"Burning ants."
The words didn't echo aloud, but rather etched themselves into the very marrow of the living, scraping the bones of all nearby like a branding iron pressed against their souls.
And then, he raised his arms.
