The warhammer in Lance's hand seemed as heavy as a thousand pounds, each swing causing the entire space to tremble, and more tiny cracks erupted around the largest fracture.
The Elder was naturally unwilling and didn't bother summoning the copies. Instead, he fully engaged in magical combat with Lance, trying to control as much of the space as possible.
Neither made direct contact, but the confrontation was intense, evident from the continuously fracturing and disappearing voids.
Reynard and his allies were also battling the copies. These beings hadn't inherited the mighty flesh control capabilities of their originals, but they possessed a bizarre sorcery as if it were an innate talent.
The perfect copies made strange gestures with their hands, raising them, and the eerie, blood-red tentacles attacked.
Union!
The twisted tentacles aimed to tear them apart, absorbing them into the flesh—a twisted union.
