Sera stood in the ash, her white armor stained black, her sword heavy in her hand. She had killed thousands. She had cut a path through the spawns that should have been impossible. But there were always more.
"Sera!" someone called. "Behind you!"
She turned and killed in a numb fashion before she continued fighting. Perhaps she was not worthy to reach the end of this road; no one here was, even the prince of lightning, whose thunder was growing weak.
Her eyes found Tarian in the forefront, and his eye-catching blue hair was now grey with ash.
His lightning still came when he called it, but it was weaker and slower. The bolts that had carved through half the city were reduced to thin, flickering threads.
His Heaven Grade Legacy was not exhausted; it could not be exhausted, but he was. His body was a cage of fatigue, and his muscles were screaming and his lungs burning.
He had been fighting for hours. He had not stopped, and he could not stop, even if he wished to.
