The shattered blade could now deform itself via the flames, twisting and turning like a snake past the enemy's guard but M'Rael always blocked it, no matter how impossible the angle of the attack was.
The Sentries kept feeding him information and the energy coating his weapons shielded them from the destructive heat of the Immortal Flames. A normal enchanted armor would have imploded due to the mana required, but M'Rael's was no armor, it was Menadion's tower.
Any other weapon would have melted on contact and its enchantments be consumed at every clash, but Solus' Fury was the apex of Menadion's work and it was at one with the tower.
Lith fought hard and lost hard, one swing of the Fury too many and the Flames failed to keep the blade's shards together.
"Good riddance, Verhen!" M'Rael was about to deliver the finishing blow when a silvery glaive aimed at his neck. "What?"
