Vell's crystalline form fractured the air, prismatic shards lashing out like serpents. The twelve Guardians didn't flinch. The woman with mercury hair snapped her fingers, and time seemed to stutter.
The shards froze mid-air.
"Cute," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "But crude."
Her companion—the man wrapped in chains of light—flicked his wrist. The chains unspooled, each link humming with celestial energy. They coiled around Vell's shards, not to restrain, but to purify. The fragments hissed, black smoke curling from their edges as the light seared into them.
[Master, that's holy mana! It's countering your absorption!]
Vell's laughter echoed through the chamber, warped and layered. "Holy? Please." His fractured voice sharpened. "I'll make it unholy."
