But the young man who continued singing didn't move a step, merely lifting his brows slightly, greeting the scorching spiritual shock with an unchanging expression.
The invisible heatwave slammed into his spirit, yet it was like hitting an impregnable wall of bronze, incapable of shaking the solid will, only slightly slowing his singing.
Nevertheless, the singing came to an end.
Within the space, all the remaining magic power orderly gathered at the sword blade in the brother's hand.
The chain reaction reached its endpoint, with no more multicolored hues, leaving only a dazzling brilliant white that eclipsed all surrounding light, plunging the entire world into pure white silence.
The battle has gone on until now, and the brother was clearly exhausted, his face pale, emerald eyes bloodshot and slightly unfocused, while the hand gripping the sword-staff trembled slightly.
However, neither the young man nor the maiden seemed to have any intention of stopping here.
