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The decision to eliminate a member of his family still weighed on his conscience, but he forced himself to do what he deemed \'right\'.

Raelar and Selene were almost free from their carbon prisons. The sound of their frogs crashing against the black walls echoed in the tense air. A crack appeared, then another, like the first fissures in a dam about to burst.

Time seemed to slow. Each second stretched into eternity as Fathoran prepared to unleash his final attack. The entire city seemed to hold its breath, as if somehow sensing its fate hung by a thread.

Fathoran aimed at Lucien. The air around his hand froze, forming a brilliant and deadly ice energy that crackled with power.

Selene and Raelar screamed, their voices raw with desperation.

A whistle cut through the air.

A silver lance grazed Fathoran\'s cheek, leaving a fine but deep cut. Blood spurted from the wound, scarlet drops falling onto the white stone.

Fathoran: 541 - 3 = 47 Resistance / 491 Armor Resistance

Fathoran roared in pain and surprise, his concentration shattered for a crucial instant. As he turned, he saw another member of his family, now even his great-grandson...

So many years, so many years since he\'d seen his own blood. But for one so young... how could he also be rotten... The rotten fruit was too toxic! Fathoran glared at Lucien with renewed fury.

But that moment of distraction was all Raelar and Selene needed. Their carbon prisons crumbled.

Raelar, seeing the imminent danger to Lucien\'s life, remembered his desire to have Lucien\'s courage to openly oppose.

A thought flashed through his mind: the occasions he had chosen safety over righteousness, his constant fear disguised as an analytical mind. \'No more,\' he thought. \'It\'s time to be as brave as my cousin.\'

Without hesitation, Raelar launched himself forward. The helium propelled him at a dizzying speed. The wind whistled in his ears as he flew towards Lucien.

Selene did the same, though her reasoning was likely different.

In an instant, Raelar pushed Selene out of the way and interposed himself between Fathoran and Lucien.

"Raelar, no!" Selene\'s desperate cry resonated in the frozen air, a haunting melody of anguish and despair.

Fathoran\'s attack, meant to end Lucien, hit Raelar full force. The ice enveloped him in a glacial embrace, encasing him in the same cocoon that imprisoned Lucien.

Raelar: 140 - 25 crit = 15 / 75

"Stop!" Varick shouted, his voice lost in the chaos.

But no one heard him. Fathoran simply froze his lance in the floor and gave him a look of contempt, dismissing him like an insignificant baby.

Selene, recovering from the push, wasted no time. With a cry of fury that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city, she unleashed a barrage of magical attacks towards Fathoran.

But the Patriarch was prepared this time. With a fluid motion, he created carbon shields. Selene\'s magic clashed against the black barriers, dispersing harmlessly like waves against a cliff.

"It\'s useless, my dear Selene," Fathoran said, his voice patronizingly paternal. "Your attacks require two hits to break my barriers. You\'ll never surpass me in speed or mana quantity..."

Varick, paralyzed by the scene before him, could only watch helplessly. His lance, trapped in the ice near Fathoran, refused to return to him no matter how much he used magnetism.

Meanwhile, inside their ice prison, Lucien and Raelar struggled to stay conscious.

The cold was intense, stealing their breath and clouding their thoughts. It felt as if Death itself was embracing them, its icy fingers creeping into their very souls.

"Why?" Lucien managed to whisper, his teeth chattering like castanets.

Raelar, despite the pain, managed to sketch a trembling smile. "I envy your courage," he responded, his words barely audible over the creaking ice.

Lucien barely managed to turn his head to look at Raelar. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice fading like a dying ember.

Their frogs attacked the ice, cracking it, but in the next moment they shrank, their energy dispersing like mist in the morning sun.

Estin emerged from Elio\'s house, his face full of fury and frustration. "They\'re not here!" he shouted. "The house is empty!"

Fathoran, momentarily distracted by the news, frowned. Where could Elio\'s family be? Had they been warned somehow? Were they mocking him?

Enraged by his \'family\'s\' refusal to desist, Fathoran counterattacked immediately after one of his barriers broke. A wave of cold extended from his hands, reaching Selene before she could react.

Selene: 140 - 25 crit = 15 / 75

In an instant, she was trapped in an ice prison, her cry of surprise frozen on her lips.

Silence fell over the battlefield. Only the cracking of ice and Fathoran\'s heavy breathing broke the stillness.

The Patriarch, with blood still dripping from his cheek, looked around. His eyes shone with a cold, calculating fury. "Enough," he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. The cut in his face closing rapidly.

Fathoran: 50 Resistance / 488 Armor Resistance

Were they mocking him? That was the last straw.

Fathoran\'s rabbit grew. Its fur transformed into brilliant metal, reflecting light blindingly. It began to spin, first slowly, then faster and faster, becoming a silver blur of destruction.

The air crackled with contained energy, the very fabric of reality seeming to warp around the metallic beast.

Fathoran raised his hands, his voice resonating with terrible power. "Observe well," he declared. "This is the fate of those who betrayed their family."

The rabbit spun even faster, becoming a silver blur. Energy accumulated, threatening to be released at any moment in a devastating attack that would raze everything in its path.

Inside his icy prison, Raelar struggled to stay conscious.

"I... I don\'t regret it," he managed to whisper, his words forming small clouds of vapor in the frozen air.

"Neither do I," Lucien responded, his voice weak but filled with unwavering resolve.

Fathoran\'s rabbit reached its maximum speed, ready to unleash its devastating attack. The Patriarch, with a cruel smile on his regenerated face, prepared to crush the resistance once and for all.

Suddenly, the sky itself seemed to split open. A lance, glowing with an otherworldly power, descended from the heavens like a bolt of divine judgment. It pierced through Fathoran\'s powerful armor at the shoulder, continuing its trajectory until it exited through his groin.

The Patriarch, caught completely off guard, had no time to defend himself. The force of the impact stunning him, impaling him like a macabre trophy. His metallic rabbit shrunk in a cloud of smoke, the attack interrupted in a spectacular fizzle of dissipating energy.

All present raised their eyes, searching for the origin of this miraculous attack. The air hummed with an electric tension, as if the very universe was holding its breath in anticipation.

There, descending from the sky enveloped in a whirlwind of helium, was Elio.

His eyes, fixed on Fathoran, burned with a fury that seemed to outshine the sun itself. The air around him crackled with raw power.