Lucian moved like a phantom in the battlefield, his celestial blade a blur of silver and gold as he struck with precision and ruthless efficiency. Every slash found its mark, carving through the remaining monsters with a brutal grace that left even the seasoned warriors of Ironveil in awe. The battlefield was littered with the remains of their fallen foes, the air thick with the scent of iron and the fading remnants of void energy. Aeliana watched him move, her grip tightening on her weapon. He was a force of nature, unstoppable in his fury.
Kael, despite himself, smirked. "He's showing off," he muttered, sidestepping an incoming attack and driving his blade into the gut of a still-standing foe.
"Maybe," Aeliana admitted, her eyes locked onto Lucian's form as he weaved between his opponents. "But I can't deny he's incredible."