"Talk all you want. You still can't beat me."
Symethis's casual dismissal nearly made Slagor cough up blood. The truth always cut the deepest.
"I see the hatred in your eyes. I can feel the absolute malice rolling off you." Symethis smiled, savoring the lizardman's glare. It was the ultimate validation of his superiority. "Unfortunately for you, glaring won't kill me."
He raised a finger. A pitch-black fireball, no larger than a glass bead, coalesced at the tip. With a light flick, he sent it dropping.
Below, Slagor felt the cold grip of imminent death.
But waiting for death wasn't in Slagor's nature. He roared at the sky. His four arms snapped and burst into a cloud of blood mist, rapidly condensing into a massive, crimson eye. Just as the black fireball reached him, the blood eye snapped open and swallowed it whole.
A violent, ceaseless sizzling echoed through the air—the sound of the black fire incinerating his lifeblood.
