s*x in death
They didn't just break; they disintegrated into molten slag.
I stepped up beside him, my feet crunching on the glass. The violet Scythe in my hand was longer now, the energy jagged and unstable. I didn't just feel powerful; I felt like a storm that had finally broken its leashes.
"They’re coming from the rafters!" I shouted.
I didn't swing. I pointed the tip of the Scythe at the ceiling. A bolt of violet lightning shot upward, chaining through the iron supports. The Reapers clinging to the shadows were fried instantly, falling like heavy, black rain onto the stone floor.