A massive crater stretched around me, its edges scorched and cracked from the impact. Dust and debris floated through the air as I groaned, forcing my body to move. Every joint ached, my muscles burning from the hit.
I rolled onto my back and muttered, "It tricked me…"
The blow hadn't come from the Phantom's main body. That fist—it was formed from the Deathmist I had blasted away earlier when my staff hit its head. I'd been too focused on the towering form above, and ignored the scattered mist swirling around.
It used my own attack against me.
I exhaled hard, jaw clenched as I pushed myself to my feet. Pain rippled through my limbs, but I stayed up. Above, the Phantom swung its massive sword again. Azalea flew backward in a sharp arc, barely dodging the blade's sweep.
My mind raced. If this kept going, we'd be stuck in a loop—fighting endlessly while the Phantom used its endless Deathmist to rebuild itself again and again.
No. I couldn't let that happen.
