The throne room had become a slaughterhouse of marble and divine fury.
Shattered pillars lay like broken teeth across the floor. Blood, both red and something thicker, darker, older, pooled in the deep grooves between the tiles, reflecting the flickering light of the few remaining torches. The air itself felt heavy, charged with the raw power of three beings who had walked the world for eons.
Eton moved like a living siege engine, his greatsword carving wide, lethal arcs that forced everyone to keep distance. Daxris flickered in and out of sight, a silver haired ghost whose daggers sought throats and kidneys with surgical cruelty. Gadis was a mountain of muscle and wrath, his war hammer crashing down with the force of a falling boulder, each impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the ancient marble.
Kai's group fought like cornered wolves.
