The darkness swirled like a living thing, its oppressive weight pressing against their lungs. The Melchorys writhed within the shadows, their screams muffled by the void. Leon moved swiftly, his form a blur of motion. Sparks of lightning began to crackle around him, the air charged with raw energy.
"Leon," El-Kharis's voice was a commanding rumble, piercing through the chaos, "strike the zeal. We need them to feel the pain, to weaken their resolve."
Leon nodded, his blue energy surging to life. With a swift motion, he raised his hand, calling forth a bolt of lightning that slashed through the air. It struck the zeal—a pulsating sphere of malevolent energy created by the Barados—sending a ripple of agony through the Melchorys trapped within. Their cries echoed, louder now, filled with the anguish of their bodies being assaulted by forces beyond their comprehension.
The zeal flickered, its glow dimming momentarily, but the shadows remained relentless.
