The sky had turned black by the time they reached what Akida called the cradle of lightning bugs.
Even before they arrived at the cradle, Syryn was witness to the bolts of lightning that constantly struck the landscape they were making a beeline towards.
"Utsui, are you insane?" Syryn asked again. They were at a safe distance from the lightning bolts. The hard rock that stretched out before them was covered in scores of long ridges carved out by lightning over centuries of exposure.
The hot white and blue bolts of electricity hit the tableland periodically. And closer to the centre of the electrical hotbed, Syryn could make out balls of glowing blue plasma that floated in the environment of lightning.
"Dont worry, I came prepared," Utsui answered and he held up an ordinary looking glove.
"You're going to die, aren't you?" Syryn hollowly echoed his inner voice.
