The freezing mountain wind howled across the pulverized stone plateau, whipping the ragged, torn hemline of Shaurya's black coat.
Every nerve ending along his torso screamed in agony. Beneath the tattered fabric, the deep laceration across his ribs hissed with residual violet sparks, the scorched edges weeping crimson over his trousers.
Shaurya didn't yield his ground. He drove his boots deep into the fractured granite, forcing his trembling knees to lock straight through pure, unyielding resolve. His right hand gave the Meteorite Sword a sharp, fluid twirl, the blade cutting a crisp silver ring through the air before settling into a low, measured guard.
Beneath his damp bangs, Shaurya's natural black eyes narrowed, cold and calculating as they locked onto the solitary silver ring revolving behind the monster's back.
"Void Walker or not..." Shaurya murmured, the words cutting flat through the whistling draft. "...let's see how long that borrowed shell keeps you breathing."
