Chapter 244 Ethusa

• Noah was a storm the Syrics could not weather. His claws ripped, his blade sang, and his fire burned swathes of the enemy into ash. They fell around him like shadows torn apart by the sun—dozens in a heartbeat, hundreds in moments. Yet still they came.
• The Syrics didn’t retreat. They didn’t fear death. Even as Noah slaughtered them as if they were nothing, they kept pressing forward, an endless tide of fangs and shrieks. Their orders were clear: overwhelm him, or break past him to reach the others, but they found no passage.
• Noah’s duplicates stood in their way—echoes of his dragon might, each one fighting with perfect, merciless precision. Any Syric that tried to dart past was met with steel, claw, or flame before it could even scream. Around Redrick, the unconscious Esther, and the others, the circle of defense never faltered. The others stood ready with weapons in hand, but their grips were tight with awe more than action. There was nothing left for them to do but watch.