A chilling sharpness pressed against the side of his neck, so intense it felt as if it could pierce his skin. This, combined with the sluggish feeling of sinking into a swamp brought on by the Spiritual Energy, was infinitely magnified in the human Mage's Perception.
The chill of being on the brink of life and death, like the sharpest Ice Cone, pierced through the absolute rationality and calm he had maintained for years.
'It's too late!'
At such a close distance, and against his opponent's terrifyingly precise timing, it was too late to cast any conventional Defense Spells or use any displacement techniques.
The Short Spike, pulsing with a sinister violet light that seemed to devour souls, would pierce the side of his neck in the next moment.
However, as a Great Mage from the High Tower who was highly regarded and could hold his own, the human Mage was not without a final trump card.
