Lucius clasped his palms together and Excalibur vanished, leaving behind the contrasting moonlights of the twin moons.
His cold gaze remained fixated on Victor's figure as he pressed the flute against his lips.
Above him, Victor hovered mid-air, surrounded by a halo of crimson light. His radiant figure seemed almost ethereal as if he were a deity descending to pass judgment on the mortal realm.
Victor's gaze was cold, his expression one of divine detachment. He raised his arm slowly, his fingers curling as the sky above him began to shift.
"You refuse to yield," Victor intoned, his voice echoing with an unnatural resonance. "Then as the herald of the gods, I will deliver their final judgment."
The atmosphere around Victor grew dense and oppressive. Dark clouds swirled above him, infused with streaks of gold and crimson lightning that crackled violently.
