Malakor gasped, his form flickering. "The prophecy... said you were a King of Gold. It never said you’d bleed for a servant."
As the blade descended, Alaric didn't reach for his sword—he reached for the Mage’s hand. In a desperate gambit of "The Twin-Soul Strike," the King channeled his physical vitality into the Mage’s fading mana. A blinding shockwave of gold and violet erupted, throwing the assassin against the far wall and cracking the very foundations of the castle. [S1E7] An Attack on the King
King Alaric didn’t flinch. He sat atop the Obsidian Seat, his fingers tracing the notch in his ancestral blade. Beside him, the High Mage whispered a containment spell, but the air was already thick with the scent of ozone and burnt lavender—the calling card of the . Malakor gasped, his form flickering