Bro, I'm not an Undead!

"You know nothing about light and darkness, brat. Watch and learn," Fulgardt said.

The ice on Skullius began to thaw at once. Weaver, with narrowed eyes full of suspicion, forced it to recede from his master’s body.

The Hybrid Warmoth furrowed his brows at the frightening development he’d just endured. As he healed all his wounds, he dashed a few steps back and appraised his body.

’Did I really just attack myself?’ he thought. ’How did Weaver’s ice get me instead of Fulgardt?’

It was a mystery... but one Skullius intended to get to the bottom of with action.

The ring of golden white light smothering Edagon and the ocean had a purpose; a sinister one. But as long as that didn’t kill him instantly, Skullius didn’t mind charging into it to learn.

It helped that Fulgardt didn’t seem to be in a rush to attack. He was waiting while maintaining his stance, his hands reaching forth as though to grapple the air.

"Come," he said to the Hybrid Warmoth.

Skullius didn’t hesitate.

Snatching what looked like a steel crescent branded with burning characters on its face, and some kind of wooden stake with a blue flame burning from its blunt end, Skullius hurtled forth. This time, he risked it all and even reinforced his entire (mostly) intangible body with Maximum Jaqquezjaqqz. His rippling black form became tinged in puce and turquoise.

Two of his hands aimed at Fulgardt’s head and wrist while his weapons aimed for his neck and chest.