"IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS WORLD...! I'LL FUCKING DESTROY IT AALLLLLLL!!!"
Greg's prosthetic arm moved on its own just inches from Valthor's divine sword.
The First Hammer's power, which was dormant at twenty percent capacity, suddenly shot up to two hundred percent in an impossible instant. The prosthetic remained unchanged in size or length, yet the golden energy transcended the boundaries of space, defying the laws of physics and magic simultaneously.
Greg's hand closed around the blade without any protection, catching a divine weapon that represented all war with nothing but stolen power and complete faith.
A brilliant white light illuminated the arena.
Greg didn't know what happened next, but later, when he could think about it more clearly and deal with his trauma, he would remember standing in a white space with only Valthor and himself.
