"Is he alright?" Ando mused as his Natural Spirit carried Gal and Tsuji down.
Meilyr stood paralyzed, confused by his own sudden burst of violence. He had never been the vicious sort, even in his previous life, yet he could feel the dwindling hints of frenzy hiding deep within him.
They had emerged before, in short, mind-numbing surges. His clouded memory only allowed him to recall their pleasurable thrill.
He could grow used to this, perhaps even addicted.
Was it the influence of the Vile Ichor? A creeping kind of corruption that rooted itself inside his very psyche?
It scared him.
It was entrancing enough that he could barely fight against it. He wasn't sure he could prevent its embrace.
Was he doomed to accept this madness?
He didn't want to. He was numbed to human sensibilities ever since becoming a magus, but the fact remained that he held a certain sense of values.
