The Aegis Lock dome pulsed faintly—cracks splintering across its silvery surface like a wineglass ready to shatter. Every heartbeat was another tick off the countdown. Elira was barely conscious, propped against the wall with a hand clutching her ribs. Lyra gritted through the pain in her burned leg, trying not to cry out. Serina's eyes were half-lidded, drained from overcasting magic far beyond her current reserves.
And Inigo?
He was the only one still standing.
Outside the barrier, the demon-minotaur circled like a siege weapon come to life—its eyes blazing with violent intent. The armor fused to its flesh still glowed with the remains of cursed heat, and every exhale filled the air with the scent of sulfur and death.
Inigo inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the grip of his Desert Eagle. His M4 was nearly empty. His mana reserves were low. But worst of all—his team couldn't keep fighting. If he didn't act now, they were dead.
