Adrius and Lysander stared at Theron, their eyes burning with fury. Adrius could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing harder against him. His breath came in shallow bursts, and the trembling in his limbs had worsened. He knew this fight had only gotten more difficult.
Lysander cursed under his breath, his expression twisted with rage.
"That son of a bitch!" he spat with voice thick with hatred. His grip tightened around his staff, the sparks of residual lightning still dancing along its length. His anger toward Theron surged like a wildfire, burning hotter with each passing second.
Adrius sighed, though a faint, weary smile crossed his lips. "Fortunate that you managed to drink it," he said, nodding toward the now-shattered potion vial.
Lysander shook his head, frustration clear in his voice.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "I'm not sure I can beat him on my own."
