"Still standing, demon. How disappointing."
The explosion's aftermath rained lightning and backlash through the shattered skies of Armathor. Chairman Ethella emerged from the atmospheric blast scorched but unfazed, storm magic crackling around his form like armor.
His midnight robes were singed at the edges where dimensional fire had touched fabric. Silver hair whipped in the winds while his eyes blazed with power that could reshape weather patterns across continents.
The commander's desperate gambit had failed. Atmospheric compression required precision that dimensional entities couldn't achieve in unfamiliar reality. Ethella's mastery of natural forces exceeded alien understanding of physical laws.
"Your tricks grow predictable," Ethella said while gathering storm clouds around his position. "Observe true mastery."
