The strips of light on Mikhail's eyes didn't show as to a hint of hesitation in his conviction. Even with the pain that was still assaulting his mind and body, the Commander was able to sort out his thoughts and gather his composure. The minutes of waiting didn't fare well with his impatience.
The anticipation made his body tremble, as if drops of acid were stirring his flesh up.
He was itching to plunge himself into danger.
So much so that the excitement was giving him more agony than the Emperor's berserk.
Mikhail turned towards Khamael, who had his eyes shut all the while utilizing all the time to gather all probable mana as he could. The younger Percival's shirt was bedraggled with sweat, displaying his struggle to concentrate against the excruciation. So the Commander decided to leave for the meanwhile.
