Shadowclaw began to hum, letting loose a scream that set the air aflame. From the blade's spine, webs of scarlet veins lit, stretching across the obsidian face. Each unit of mana Altair delivered returned threefold, spreading through his meridians like an endless flood across the body. Moonlight peering through murals became stained red, tarnished by a demonic rot known only to the Second Layer of Hell.
Richmond Ironblood was horrified, whether it was the aura billowing from off the Prince or the presence of the Hells around Shadowclaw. Instincts overwhelmed reason, warning of the Second Circle.
Altair glanced at his sword, sensing he had not brought out all this sword's power. 'It can do more,' he thought, containing himself with the aid of the [Soul of the Imdominable].
