Sylen didn't hesitate any longer.
His hand snapped up, fingers tightening into a rigid sigil—and power surged in response. Black energy flared along his forearm, searing ancient glyphs into the air like a brand carved by flame. The glyphs shimmered, spiraled, and burned, dancing in a pattern that called not just across space—but through the veil of spiritual restraint he had long sworn never to pierce.
And then—
He spoke.
A word. A name. A command.
"Boar Knight," Sylen snarled. "To me."
Across the smoking field, the summoned warrior—eight feet of tusked wrath locked in brutal combat—jerked violently mid-swing. Its opponent, one of Alex's clones, blinked in surprise as its blade scraped through empty air. But the knight was already gone.
A flash of crimson consumed its form.
And in the next heartbeat—
The Boar Knight landed beside Sylen like a meteor of steel and fury.
