When Azriel swung down, a black arc of mist surged forward. At the same time, thirteen blue arcs rained toward him from the sky.
He bent his knees, muscles coiling as mana streamed into his tendons. His aura wrapped around him like a second layer of armor. His expression was sharp and unwavering.
'Alright—just like back in the Forest of Eternity.'
Even if that had been inside a dream, this was also a dream.
Red lightning coursed across his body, streaks of ice still clinging to his skin, the tips of his hair pale as frost. Gradually, the crimson lightning shifted—its color fading into white. Something new was happening this time: instead of spreading across his entire body, the lightning drew inward, condensing around his feet until it formed a pair of gleaming boots. White lightning wrapped them like armor.
