Glasyth lunged in with an obsidian fist. Arthur drew five slashes of five colors in a single breath.
Fire heated the glass, water shocked it, metal bit into the cracks, wood pried them wider, and earth struck them shut. The obsidian screamed and fractured.
"The Five Elements."
Meanwhile, in the hidden space overlooking the hall, the White Tiger had forgotten to blink. "Five elements, thunder, light, darkness, space," he muttered. "Each cut chosen for the exact thing it faces."
"Truly a good seedling," said the Blue Dragon.
But the demons were still standing. They tore free of every wound, their Netherform flames burning brighter, and they pressed in until the open center of the hall was a storm of fire, frost, and shadow.
Arthur's robe stirred in the wind of their blows. He slid between them, parried a chain with a flick of gold, and glided away from a bone spike by a hand's width.
Glasyth, shaking glass from his arm, bellowed over the roar. "Form the Nether Army Array!"
