As if recognizing him.
"Of course," Luka muttered. "It saw me at the first seed."
Serene threw her shield ahead like a discus—enchanted, pulsing with divine mana—and it smashed into the Maw's shoulder. It barely flinched, but the blow staggered it just enough.
Luka lunged.
His daggers, twin arcs of light, struck true—piercing into the Maw's ribs. The void-flesh hissed, recoiling, but it didn't bleed. Instead, it leaked time, fragments of moments pouring out in flickers—images of other places, other deaths.
Serene was behind him in an instant, catching her shield on the rebound and slamming into the thing's kneecap. It buckled, just slightly.
Lysa was chanting now—her hands bleeding from channeling raw anti-corruption sigils, laying hexes across the Maw's limbs to slow its motion.
"Now, Fenric!" Luka shouted.
The mage stood shakily, eyes glowing white-hot as he poured all his remaining mana into the obelisk.
With a scream, the obelisk cracked.
