Dante's skin, toughened by the Pool of the Firmament, was burning and cracking under the endless heat of the Magma Drake's attack.
Soul-Drinker in his hand was not a sword. It was a channel. A screaming funnel through which a river of molten energy was being forced into his soul.
He was a dam holding back a volcano. And he was breaking.
His two titans, Ouroboros and Hephaestus, were locked in battle with the Magma Drake. A fight of monsters that shook the floating island.
But it was only one dragon. One of ten.
The other nine circled high above. Patient hunters. Watching as the horde of Sun-Eater Wyverns descended to pick bones clean.
The battle on the ground was desperate. Failing.
His team, his powerful warriors, were being overwhelmed by a wave of leathery wings and snapping jaws.
Masha's ice barriers shattered under sheer weight of numbers.
Kael was broken on the ground no creature came to eat him for now, maybe it was there way of treating its prey.
