Morgan pierced Brant with a cold apathetic gaze, his eyes boring into his own with a disturbing intensity.
A small stream of liquid flowed onto the ground soaking through Brant's clothes.
Brant didn't even seem to register the fact that he'd wet himself.
On the ground, Anthony trembled, his eyes staring sightlessly into the distance.
In the mindscape, Kazarax gripped the Talented, tightening his grip around his neck.
Anthony chocked staring at the terrifying horned demon in disbelief.
Kazarax grinned, sharp rows of glinting fangs gleaming in the light of the flames pouring out of his maw.
"For a punk, you're quite audacious..." he hissed gently.
He leaned in, the flames licking at Anthony's face, and whispered.
"I've seen your little mind games...you think you're something, kid, but trust me, you're nothing... I've lived for hundreds of years...seen empires rise and fall, so I would know..."
