Chapter 127: The Perfect Illusion
The freezing Wildlands wind howled across the crumpled hood of the Iron Leviathan.
Draven Mordis and Morvath the Hollow stood completely frozen in a deadly stalemate. Draven gripped the Cultist's wrist with an iron hold. Morvath pushed back, his serrated black blade hovering inches away from Draven's neck.
Toxic Miasma dripped from the steel. Black blood dripped from Morvath's mouth.
The Level 100 Executioner was breathing heavily. His pale face twisted in a mixture of absolute fury and genuine confusion. He was a master of the Void. He had deployed the Embryo of the Crimson Void to strip away the laws of reality.
Yet, a teenage Vanguard Captain was overpowering him with nothing but raw, terrifying biology.
'This physical density is impossible,' Morvath thought. 'His muscles feel like compressed star-metal.'
Draven's own body was screaming.
