Rex took a single step forward. The ground beneath him hummed with restrained power.
The violet glow of his mask seemed to pulse brighter.
"Practice," Xerollion said, his voice flat and utterly devoid of empathy.
Rex didn't use magic for the finishing blow. He didn't need to.
He simply stepped into the man's space and delivered a single, controlled strike across his jaw.
CRACK.
The sound of the mandible breaking was sharp and clean. The Apostle's head snapped sideways with inhuman force, his brain bouncing against the inside of his skull.
He didn't even have time to register the pain before consciousness fled. His body went limp, collapsing into the blood-soaked stone like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Rex didn't pause to check his pulse. He simply stepped over the fallen divine warrior and continued his advance into the heart of the slaughter.
