Clang!
Suddenly, a sharp sword cry rang out, cutting through the air like a divine trumpet. The crimson-robed elder's attention was instantly drawn. He whipped his head around, only to see Bruce being struck down by a single blow from Alan's blade.
Bruce, now sprawled in the dirt, looked nothing like the divine figure who had hovered loftily in the skies just moments ago. Covered in dust and debris, he appeared wretched, stripped of all his former majesty.
Before Bruce could even scramble to his feet, Alan had already appeared behind him, pressing the tip of Lumen Sancta directly against his heart.
"Put down your staff, you little bastard!" the crimson-robed elder roared, his voice tight with both urgency and rage. "I'm warning you—if you so much as harm a single hair on his head, the royal family of the Jiner Kingdom will—"
Schluck!
