"A common misconception," Roman replied, blood dripping from his blade as he advanced toward the Harmonizer. "One your cult will not survive to correct."
Brother Mortus stood his ground as his remaining cultists formed a protective wall before him. Only four members of the Containment Chorus remained standing, their amber armor cracked from Melo's precise strikes. They moved with desperate coordination, their previously perfect synchronization now fracturing under the weight of Roman's relentless advance.
The Ice Monarch's silver hair caught the flickering light as he moved. Even without access to his mana core, his swordsmanship alone represented the pinnacle of physical mastery. Six cultists already lay dead from their encounter in the corridor. Another seven had fallen in this gallery. Yet Brother Mortus showed no fear.
"Your Chorus is broken," Roman stated, his voice colder than winter wind. "Your delay tactics have failed. Surrender now, and I may grant you a clean death."
