It was a strange moment in the misty world as Azemo lay motionless on the ground, Spiren standing confidently, a few feet away. The glowing blade of the archangel's sword was buried in the ground as it remained in Azemo's hand.
Instead of checking his kill, Spiren was using his mana to solidify the connection between his wound and the silvery moonlit arm. It was important to finalize the bond as soon as possible so that the arm would be functional in the future and Spiren did not feel like poking around a dead body.
Azemo could not tell where he was as he could not feel his body, nor see anything. The only thing on his mind was the drive to complete his list. He could not let Spiren survive and even as he seemed to drift farther from the mortal plain, his thoughts remained focused on revenge.
That single emotion must have done something as Azemo heard a voice in the haze.
