The spear cut through the air like a silver lightning bolt.
Elio's hand trembled slightly as he released it, his eyes fixed on Varen, who loomed over Lucien with murderous intent.
Time seemed to slow as the weapon sliced through the space between them. Elio's heart pounded, one beat an eternity.
He had made his choice. There was no turning back.
The spear found its mark with brutal precision, piercing Varen's skull, his half-formed fireball dissipating into harmless sparks. For a moment, he remained frozen, a macabre statue of death, the fifth trophy.
Then, with a soft gurgle, Varen collapsed, his body crumpling beside Lucien. Blood pooled around the spear protruding from his head, its metallic scent filling the air.
A roar of pure rage tore through the atmosphere.
The Patriarch's eyes, burning with an intensity that seemed to scorch the very air, sought Elio.
The killer of his last loyal Summoner.