"Noooooooooo!" A voice screamed in an ancient tongue.
The sheer force of wind from the vocals ripped the clouds gathered in the sky apart.
The pillory binding them all crumbled, and the Death Zone skill dissipated.
In a flash, Vamel was already at the position Seth was meant to be.
He moved so fast he left a trail of pure vacuum in his wake.
He stared at the gap in the soil still reeking of grim essence, his eyes trailing to the deeply entrenched footprints.
His eyes twitched, green veins bulged, his graceful armor clattered as his essence roiled in fury.
Why did they leave? It didn't make any sense.
He played the part perfectly, he was careful — too much so. So why in the hell didn't they try to retaliate?
It was common sense to stomp on your foe while he's down. He just couldn't comprehend it.
The loss stung deep, especially when the image of Seth came to mind.
'that guy definitely had a Monarch-grade gene.' he lamented inwardly.
