The lightning in the sky grew wilder. The storm-born being gathered hundreds of lightning bolts into one colossal spear, condensing them into a five meter long lance that hummed with deadly energy.
From the battlements below, the soldiers and Mages could only watch in awe and terror. To them, it looked like a natural disaster, a wrathful force that could obliterate everything at any second.
Sylmira felt much more dread than them. Her face was tense and filled with worry.
She began to realize that sending Arty up there alone might have been a terrible mistake. But she had to maintain the barrier below to prevent wild Magic from lashing out from the battle above.
She couldn't send another Mage to help either because none of them were as capable as Arty.
Then Sylmira noticed something strange. A faint mist of blackness began seeping from Arty's body. It was small and subtle, and perhaps only visible to her trained eyes.
