Arthur hovered just above the swirling chaos of the battlefield, his breath steady, even though the storm around him felt anything but calm. His [Mini-Suns] pulsed with a rhythmic hum, orbiting his form like protective guardians. Across from him, the masked man—Thor, if Arthur's instincts were right—stood tall, hammer in hand, its surface alive with crackling electricity. Thunder roared overhead, a natural symphony accompanying the tension in the air.
For a moment, neither of them moved, the eye of the storm holding them both in suspended anticipation. Arthur's mind raced, weighing his options. Momo had been knocked back but was already rising, her fury far from quelled. Lily was still busy holding back the cultists, but Arthur's focus was solely on the man standing in front of him—the one responsible for everything that had spiraled out of control.
Arthur decided to try a different approach.
