Two hours later…
"Hmmm… Was my punishment too harsh?"
Nolan stared at Zerathos, who lay on the ground like a dead fish.
His condition was pitiful. His expression was blank, and his body was covered in bruises.
There were no serious physical injuries aside from the bruises caused by Nolan's earlier blows, but his mental state and self-esteem had been completely shattered.
That was far worse than physical wounds, because injuries like those required extraordinary effort to heal.
And more often than not, the result was futile, because most people who suffered such mental wounds and broken self-esteem lacked the strength to rise again.
Nolan stood up and snapped his fingers. The throne behind him slowly dissolved into black smoke.
He then landed beside Zerathos and checked his condition.
"It's far worse than I expected," he muttered helplessly.
He had thought Zerathos would be able to endure it, but it turned out he couldn't. This man was truly weak and disappointing.
