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Chapter 133: The Birth of National Level Part XII
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His wings snapped open and down, launching him into a corkscrew spin. Lava trailed from his body like comets, and when he reappeared above me—he was holding a spear.
Not forged. Not summoned. Torn from his own spine.
The molten weapon spun once in his grip before he hurled it down.
I threw both hands upward and let the Abyss form a dome above me—not a shield, but a wound. A gap in reality.
The spear struck it and vanished.
Silence.
Then, o ...
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