I looked at the Deathmist swirling around the violet hole in the phantom's torso. The singularity was still pulling everything inward, an endless drain of matter and energy. Nearly thirty percent of its mass had already vanished—erased from existence. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.
Azalea didn't let up. Her roots kept sprouting from the earth, wrapping around the phantom's dismembered legs, now sealed off from the torso by my second Space Lock.
She poured pure life force into them, her attacks burning through the corrupted fog with a radiant green-white light. With each pulse, more of the Deathmist curled up, dissolved, and scattered.
"Come on," I muttered and pointed my staff again.
Dozens of violet flowers bloomed inside the space. Petals shimmered and pulsed with pure violet Essence, circling the screaming phantom like a blooming grave. My grip tightened. With a pulse of will, I detonated them all at once.
BOOM!!
