Varnos was lying on the ground, his body half-sunk into the deep cracks of space, and his breaths were ragged and heavy.
Every inhale and exhale felt like a rusty blade scraping through his lungs.
The mana inside his body was no longer flowing. Instead, it was crashing against the walls of his existence like a wild flood, completely out of control.
In front of him, Alaric stood straight, motionless, and flawless. Even in this broken and collapsing battlefield, his presence was like a fixed point in the middle of chaos.
His gaze was directed downward, straight at Varnos, but not with anger or excitement… just with a cold certainty.
"…Is this how it ends?" This thought silently echoed in Varnos's mind, right at the moment when another wave of pain passed through him.
The poison, like a living creature, crawled through his veins and slowly ate away at his existence.
