Manon's arrival shattered the balance of the battlefield.
Though calling it a battle was generous, it had devolved into a massacre. The fearsome clay gods, each one radiating the might of a Solaris Knight Commander, had dominated moments earlier. Now, they were little more than playthings in the hands of the ancient spearman.
He didn't fight them.
He toyed with them.
Manon moved with terrifying grace—each step fluid, each pivot impossibly smooth, his form honed beyond perfection. His spear danced through the air with such speed and precision that even Leon, blessed with superhuman senses and trained vision, could barely track the motion. Every thrust carved shockwaves into the air, and each swing struck with such overwhelming force that the golden city trembled, entire streets fracturing beneath the impact.
It was no longer a confrontation—it was a god defying the heavens, attempting to seize the divine seat for himself, and doing so without resistance.
