The violet-black energy at Xerollion's fingertips reached its breaking point. It didn't explode; it didn't roar.
Instead, it condensed into a single, impossibly thin needle of absolute annihilation.
SHIIIIIIIIIIING.
The energy left his fingertips in one clean, surgical line. It crossed the final few inches between them faster than any human eye could register, slicing through the air with a sound like silk tearing.
It passed through Apollo Brightsoul's throat with a precision that was more terrifying than any messy slaughter. There was no spray, no arterial fountain, just a small, cauterized dark mark where the violet black light had passed through his vertebrae, severing his spine and his life in the same microsecond.
But Xerollion was not done with his prize.
As the blade of energy severed the flesh, Xerollion's other hand shot forward, palm open. "Mine."
VROOOOOM WHIRRRRR.
