Cold, flowing…
Mist from the top of a kilometer-high cliff gathered on the rocks as dew, and droplets fell on the old man's forehead.
The slight impact and the cold sensation helped the nearly unconscious Hiliard gather his senses once more.
He mustered his energy, opened his eyes, and saw lightning bolts striking down beside him, turning into gigantic arcs visible to the naked eye, flashing through the air.
The elderly Knight lifted his head, watching the scene unfold.
The intense light from the lightning forced his near-halted thoughts to kickstart, and his gaze gradually turned from vacant to luminous, truly taking in everything before him.
A body that had turned into pitch-black charcoal, and a White Folks boy lying in a pool of water.
The battle had ended.
One had died, and one was still breathing.
