Giyo's body was a map of wounds, cuts both shallow and deep, bruises blooming across his ribs and chest, one shoulder half-dislocated from repeated impacts but he stood straighter now. Not through pride.
Through something else.
The Spirit Sovereign Wolf circled him warily, silver fur rippling with anticipation.
The dragon remained still, watching, not just with calculation, but with a trace of reverence, like one might show an opponent who had stepped beyond his fate.
"You shouldn't still be alive," the dragon murmured, golden eyes narrowing.
"I'm not," Giyo replied, spear crackling with the dark light of his lifespan technique. "That part of me died with Golgroth."
And then he moved.
Faster, sharper than before.
He closed the distance between them like thunder splits the sky, and his spear struck first, not at the dragon, but at the wolf.
The Spirit Sovereign met it, claws colliding with the shaft, sparks flying like stars.
But Giyo didn't relent.
