"Death Mode."
~VWUUUUUUSHHHH!!!~
Dark energy erupted around Lucius like a tidal wave, expanding outward with an intensity that made the air itself tremble.
The overwhelming aura of death corroded the earth and stone around him, reducing it to dust in mere moments.
Seraphiel hovered above, his calm demeanor replaced with wary curiosity as he watched the transformation unfold.
Lucius' form was encased in an armor of pure darkness, jagged and menacing, pulsing with malevolent energy.
It radiated an aura of finality that caused even the air to grow heavier.
In his hands materialized a massive, curved scythe that seemed to drink in the light around it, its blade glowing faintly with a deadly crimson hue.
The Apostle narrowed his eyes.
"So, this is your trump card," he murmured, his voice measured, though the tension in his posture betrayed his unease.
