Erelion only smiled again. He was never going to say that.
Damon lifted the almost dead elf with his blood tendrils and squeezed the life out of him with his very hands, and just as the elf was about to die, a splash of green fell over him along with a voice that boomed from everywhere.
"Don't you think that's enough?"
Green motes lifted from the ground like fireflies and fully surrounded Erelion, healing him with vitality and lifeforce from top to bottom.
Damon did not care about him anymore. He turned around sensing a profound aura behind him. It was an elf, an old man. His long white hair reached his waist, tied loosely with vine-like threads.
That was in fact the only indication that he was even old at all. Everywhere else the old elf oozed youth and vitality. His body was a massive framework of muscles and raw, unrestrained power.
