Even in a Supernatural World, one must follow basic rules.
Alfred 'Blood-Red Whiskey', after downing a large quantity of high-proof whiskey and achieving a power burst, found his energy consumption naturally skyrocketed.
Heart racing, breath quickening.
As he cleaved a Storm Battle Axe in one swing, his vigorous inhalation immediately drew a significant amount of white powder into his body.
The alcoholic fumes around him gradually dissipated, and the blood that had coursed like high-velocity steam was abruptly brought to a screeching halt.
His eyes unfocused, he struggled to fix his gaze on Byron, one shaking finger raised.
"As an upright and honorable swordsman, you actually... you actually resorted to such trickery?
You're just as unscrupulous as those scoundrels who seized Tayman Brak Island.
You bastard! Without the selfless focus that comes from an unwavering belief in your own success, you... you'll never reach the state of Flow State!"
