"Dammit!"
Viscereon cursed, its body twisting and squirming as it tried to regain control.
It whipped its long, sharp tendrils, attempting to fend off Morthas and his clone, but neither of them relented.
Each strike was like a nail hammered into the creature's defenses, chipping away at its strength.
Morthas growled, his eyes burning with determination.
"Master sacrificed his energy for this opportunity," he said, his voice low and fierce. "Make it count."
The clone remained silent, its face impassive, showing no sign of acknowledgment.
Morthas scowled at the lack of response.
"Rude much," he muttered, clearly annoyed by the clone's lack of personality.
Above them, Grey was perched on the ceiling, using his [Wall Climb] to hold himself in place.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, his energy reserves nearly drained from the earlier attack.
