The body of the Spirit King flew like a limp corpse, spinning through the air until it was caught by an invisible force. It stopped, suspended in the space like a puppet whose strings were moments away from being torn apart.
"I don't need your death, worm..." Strax said, his voice rumbling like thunder crashing inside a volcano. "First, I need a little satisfaction. After all... you killed people I truly loved."
And then—it began.
Strax took a step forward.
The ground caved in.
The air imploded.
And the King screamed before the blow even landed.
The first punch crushed half of his skull into a formless mass of bone, flesh, and memory. The impact created a shockwave that cracked the ruins around them and made the flames dancing nearby flicker and recoil.
The body fell. But Strax did not allow it.
He pulled it back with a gesture. The face began to regenerate—slowly, painfully—only to be destroyed again.
