For the first time since his arrival in this world, since he had begun fighting with magic, Cliff felt himself pushed to his limits due to a lack of mana reserves. He, who once possessed an abundance of it…
Their battle raged on with relentless violence, their bodies marked by deep wounds, covered in each other's blood. But the heat was so suffocating that it dried almost instantly upon their skin.
Cliff clenched his fists, ignoring the pain that tore through his muscles. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with difficulty, but he refused to give in. The Titan, on the other hand, seemed unstoppable, its carapace continuing to regenerate, every crack sealing itself with a sinister sound.
"You cannot win," the Scourge growled, its voice echoing like molten lava.
Cliff did not reply. He steadied himself, arms trembling from exertion. He had to find an opening. A weakness. Something.
