Kaelira gripped her scepter and stared at him with ice-cold eyes.
"I told you already. You're nothing but a third-rate bug. You were never qualified to be mentioned in the same breath as me."
Her voice cut through the broken sky and landed squarely in Drazareth's ears.
"Now die."
Drazareth's face twisted. He tried to force his remaining power into motion—blood-red Netherflame surging from his chest, the snow-white gemstone in his forehead flashing frantically as it tried to feed energy back into the Powered Combat Armor.
Too late.
Kaelira pressed her scepter down.
Above them, the phoenix phantom spread its wings.
Purplish-red energy gathered from all directions, locking Drazareth in the center like a cage. The phoenix dove. Its wings swept across him, flame-like power wrapping in from the outside—then detonating from within at the same time, bursting through armor seams, energy lines, and the depths of flesh.
Drazareth let out a shriek that didn't sound human anymore.
