That cannon must prove no adversary.
Elijah was fully prepared for it...
The Reaper would not fail the Devil!
He pushed his hands forward and chanted:
"Distant Grasp!"
Every bit of his remaining Aether was funneled into this desperate gambit.
The small rocket within the barrel began to move, inching forward slowly as his Aether wrapped around it, restraining it.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a countdown to the moment of truth.
The rocket trembled, straining against the invisible force holding it back.
Sweat poured down his face, his focus unwavering despite the suffocating heat and stench surrounding him.
The beast's throat was tightening even further, crushing him, but he held firm, his eyes locked on the glowing Aether Core, the source of the creature's power.
Time seemed to stretch out, each second feeling like a thousand.
But then...
It all stopped.
