Once Arthur reached his limit, a test that the professor had intended to realise what this limit was, the recoil had been, unexpectedly, destructive in nature.
For a second, the prince lost all control of his consciousness, mind and muscles, surrendering the incessant thirst for mana that raked his core.
The pressure from his core forced in a large wave of mana, thrice more severe than the spectacle that had occurred in the infirmary.
A small but rather chaotic gale of wind swirled around the prince before exploding outward with a loud boom.
The implosion in the chilly den of the IceWing Sanctum threw Arthur and the professor back several paces, snuffing out the flames of the campfire and drowning the cave in a veil of darkness.
Only a sliver of light filtered in from the gap above the exit peeping into the Headmaster's office.
