The dust from the collapsed west wing hung thick in the air, a grey shroud over everything. Buried under chunks of stone and shattered wood, Marquis Vistro gasped for air, his lungs burning with each breath. His fancy robes were torn to shreds, and his body was a mess of cuts and bruises. With a trembling hand, he reached into the hidden inner pocket of his tunic and pulled out a small, crystal vial containing a high-grade healing elixir.
He gulped it down. It felt cool, like spring water on a raging fire, but it didn't do much. Edward's mana blast had struck him point-blank, bypassing his defenses and tearing through him with brutal force, leaving severe internal injuries in its wake. Luckily, he had a passive mana shroud active, a second skin of energy that absorbed the worst of the impact. Even so, it had been barely enough.
