Asher's chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted, drawing in the air as though the very oxygen around him was on the verge of running out. His clothes clung tightly to his body, sticking to his skin like a desperate, clingy ex-lover. Sweat drenched him entirely, tracing down the contours of his frame, glistening under the dim light of the battlefield. The shimmering purple lightning armor that had once coursed around him had vanished, leaving his full form exposed to sight, weary, yet still emanating a faint trace of power.
He stood perfectly still, motionless, as if his mind was still processing the whirlwind of events that had just transpired. His gaze seemed unfocused for a moment, distant and thoughtful, the faint hum of residual lightning fading into silence. Then, almost unexpectedly, a soft smile curved on his lips.
