Rebirth

Laston smiled, but it wasn't the grin of a man caught off guard. It was a slow knowing smile, as if he had expected this outcome all along.

He sighed with his gaze moving to Eryndor's collapsed form on the flooor. The cybernetic Elf's body twitching as sparks flickered from the deep wound in his back.

"Well," Laston muttered. "Seems even a construct like him wasn't enough to fight the Elf Prince. How disappointing. I still have a lot to learn."

Aerchon ignored his words. He snorted and stretched his hand to the side.

The broken shards of his sword that still glowing with Magic trembled where they lay. Then, one by one, they lifted into the air and swirling toward his outstretched palm. Light flickered around them, and in mere moments, the fragments reshaped and reforging into a gleaming blade as if it had never been broken.

Vael, Arlyn, and Sylra stared in astonishment.

"So it wasn't actually destroyed…" Arlyn murmured.