Theron took slow breaths, ignoring the needling pain in his lungs as lightning sparked across his body.
He pulled his father's blade back, the long, swooshing surge of Water Mana rushing back as it shrank to normal.
He might not be able to cast any spells right now, but he could certainly pour what Water Mana he did have into his blade. He had just been waiting for the perfect time to use it.
And the chance to take out a powerhouse like Ott? That was all too valuable.
But it wasn't enough.
He was already looking for more.
Chi.
His step forward was so light, and yet it seemed to reverberate across the battlefield. He had somehow become death incarnate. Even with how weak his body was, with how insignificant he seemed in the grand scheme of it all, everyone that attacked him suffered.
The Tyre Clan was finished, the Black Clan was retreating, the four geniuses that Garethon had put years into bringing up had been crushed beneath his boot.
