The projectiles hunted him with mechanical, relentless obstinacy.
The howling of sonic bombs tore through the atmosphere, each whistling piercing the air like a vibratory blade slicing through the heavens' entrails. Three warheads with obsidian hulls, engraved with technomagical glyphs that pulsed with malevolent light, converged toward him in a perfectly orchestrated choreography of death.
Mordred sensed the approach of the first, before even seeing it. His mana reacted through pure instinct, surging from his depths like an ancestral survival reflex.
[Active Skill: Intangibility]
A silent wave passed through him, transforming every fiber of his being. His flesh dissolved into ether. His bones became smoke. His very essence slipped between reality's meshes.
The explosion ravaged the world around him.
