"We'll get your arm, Gele."
Those were the prince's words in the last three days of their travel.
"Leave it," Gelethorn demanded Prince Aesril. He smiled as he clutched the remainder of his left arm, unlike the human captain's arm, which was torn below the elbow. Prince Aesril did not take this as a matter of a simple battle. It was a grudge he made.
Days passed after Prince Aesril fought Jack, the human turned undead. The prince had fought trolls during the Hunt, burrowing beasts, and mechanical flying birds. But he had never fought an undead before. Undead that was almost impenetrable by light magic.
Undead were weak against light magic. But never that one. Never Jack. Prince Aesril fought with light magic but instead of dealing damage, in the long run of their battle, the prince noticed that the undead was getting stronger. Worse, he was a human and a none magic user before he died.
