Trapped in the lightning cage, the stone-like forms of the Holy Knights convulsed.
Golden light spilled out from beneath their armour, granting them the briefest reprieve, before the lightning shocked them once again. Runes flared, desperately repairing scorched armour, to no avail. As soon as it mended, the devastating current seared it anew - not that it really showed on the dark metal.
The Holy Knights continued jerking and healing.
At first, Alden had felt a little admiration for the Storm Sentinel's and their cunning strategy. Very soon, however, that feeling turned into unease.
A pit formed in his stomach.
Surely someone had to call off the bout by now. The Holy Knights were being ruthlessly tortured and no one was doing anything. Every time they healed, unrelenting agony coursed through them again.
Warm, holy light poured out from the narrow slits of their visors in response.
It was a vicious cycle.
