Everybody froze.
It was like the air itself had turned heavy, pressing down on their bodies and souls.
Even the Nine-Tailed Fox, who had been thrashing only moments ago, stopped moving.
Her tails stiffened like spears.
No one dared to take a step.
No one even breathed too loud.
Azel gritted his teeth. He had been ready to strike again, but his sword felt useless now.
He could move his arms, yes, but he knew in his gut that against this kind of pressure, swinging his blade wouldn't matter.
Then came the voice.
"I have to admit, Mr. Azel," it said, somehow calm and sharp at the same time, "you did better than I thought you could."
The sky broke open with a flash. Purple lightning burst across the clouds, and from that storm stepped a figure small in size but infinite in weight.
Plaides walked forward with casual steps, sparks dancing around his body.
