"It's time for your execution, Malthor," Dustin said coldly, leveling his sword at him.

Cyran swept his staff upward as the arcane sigil slowly pressed down from above, while Terraen cracked his knuckles, eager to jump in.

Just when everyone thought the outcome was decided, Malthor's face twisted into an extremely unsettling smile—a blend of madness, cruelty, and grim resolve.

"Execute me? You think you can defeat me?"

He let out a harsh, broken laugh. His gaze swept over Valindra, Lysander