"Gah!" Blood sprayed from Jared's lips as ribs snapped, his body flew like a rag doll, gouging a trench across the marble until the far wall stopped him with a sickening crack.
His aura plummeted, the Dragonslayer Sword skittering away to whine in helpless protest.
"It's over..." Neville whispered, despair thick in his throat. Hopelessness clouded his face.
If even Jared had fallen, and so utterly, who could still stand against the Soul Devourer?
Is the Nethergate Sect truly fated to die here today?
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