The man who had taken the full force of his most desperate, most powerful attack... and was still standing tall, untouched.
The shattered remains of the greatsword lay scattered around Gareth's feet.
But the man himself…
Not even a scratch.
Ethan's breath hitched. His heart, which had soared at the sight of the blade breaking, now sank like a stone.
"That… that didn't even faze him…"
Ethan's chest heaved as he fought to steady his breath.
"Shattering the sword... was that the criteria?" he managed to say between gasps.
Gareth stood there, towering, calm — as though the fight had been little more than a stroll in the park.
"Of course not, Ethan," Gareth replied, his voice carrying that strange mix — part warm, part cold, impossible to read.
