Thunderous explosions and monstrous roars echoed across the swamp wasteland, each impact sending shockwaves rippling through the poisoned terrain. The sky flickered with bursts of fire and violent energy, while the ground below continued to fracture under the relentless clash.
From a distant mountainside, Fjolnir watched.
Even from such a distance, the battle felt suffocating.
Emery moved with fluid precision across the shattered terrain, his figure constantly shifting as he weaved through the abomination's relentless assaults. Rather than meeting its force head-on, he relied on speed and control, slipping past crushing blows by mere inches before countering with sharp, decisive strikes. Each movement was calculated, his body bending through space itself as he turned defense into offense in a seamless rhythm.
