A blinding arc of lightning speared toward Lumian's chest, faster than thought, but Lumian was faster.
His hand snapped up, fingers closing around the bolt.
Michael's breath hitched.
That wasn't possible.
Lumian exhaled, the raw energy dancing between his fingers like a toy, crackling but harmless in his grip. He studied it for a moment before tightening his fist.
The lightning died.
Michael's heart pounded. His mind screamed at him to move, to fight, to do something, but his body was frozen.
Lumian rose to his feet, brushing off the dust as if he hadn't just been seconds from death. His expression was unreadable now, no more amusement, no more teasing. Just cold, focused intent.
"I'll be honest, Michael." He took a slow step forward. "This has been fun. Watching you break. Watching you lose." Another step. "But we're not done."
Michael stumbled back, his instincts screaming at him, but Lumian was already in front of him.