Samuel—No—Avi magic pulsed around him—wild, incoherent, unstable. There was no rhythm, no chant, no structure. Just raw, bitter emotion wrapped in mana.
"You don't know anything," he repeated, louder this time. "You don't know her. You don't know what she meant to me!"
He surged forward.
This time, I was ready.
He wasn't fighting anymore.
He was lashing out.
I further used my Talent and enhanced my body again.
My muscles strained as the surge of power flooded through me—but with that pain comes to as over using my talent.
But this time I endure pain. I can faint here or caugh blood like normally I do.
So, I held on.
Tendons burned. Bones groaned. Veins throbbed like they were about to burst.
Because I had to.
Avi wasn't aiming anymore. He wasn't calculating. His strikes came in jagged bursts, each one fueled by some twisted cocktail of love, grief, and hatred.
He raised his arm. A lance of light flared to life—unstable and shaking, a mockery of what it once was.
