The ground beneath them shattered without warning.
Vel'XalvenoX's Blue Hole ripped open like a wound in the earth—an abyssal tear that swallowed stone, ash, and fire in one voracious gulp.
A massive void where the lava plains had been moments before, and from it, a second one opened—then another, until the air was filled with blinking, twisting holes.
The invaders stumbled, their formation scattered by the sudden onslaught.
RaelThorn barely held his footing, summoning a crackling bolt of Lightning from his fingertips, enough to block the void's jagged edges from swallowing him whole.
He gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain the energy—each bolt draining more than the last—but he refused to fall.
Vel'XalvenoX's lips curled into a cruel grin.
He was savoring this chaos, reveling in the panic and disorder his copied creation brought.
More holes appeared—each one opening, closing, and tearing into the battlefield like claws.
But the group wasn't about to break so easily.
