Ezra stumbles forward, his body a wreck of broken bones and bloodied flesh.
The world spun around him, fractured colors and golden light swirling in a surreal haze.
Skyfall, his loyal weapon, was now secure in his sovereign universe.
Every step felt like a monumental effort, yet Ezra pressed on, his resolve burning brighter than the agony engulfing his senses.
Ahead, the shimmering path of molten gold stretched toward the exit of the secret realm.
The towering statues of golden warriors flanked the road, their stern gazes seemingly urging him onward.
Each figure radiated an aura of judgment, as though weighing his worth.
Ezra grit his teeth, refusing to falter under their invisible scrutiny.
The oppressive silence of the secret realm was broken only by the faint hum of energy coursing through the ground beneath his feet.
Ezra could now easily distinguish the remnants of Vorath's energy lingering in the air, a suffocating reminder of his near-death experience.
