Upon arriving at the locus where he had forfeited his consciousness following a piercing agony the preceding diurnal cycle, he halted not, electing to plunge into the narrow path situated upon the right flank. A pivot to the right, followed by a pivot to the left five paces later, delivered him to the diminutive alcove where four mortals could labor with ease.
When the volume of life energy pooling within his hands—which had yet to undergo the Dragon Transformation—achieved a magnitude of twin spans, he unleashed four assaults in rapid succession. Each surged toward disparate trajectories, and Mel, exhaling breaths laced with hacking coughs, seated himself cross-legged where he stood.
