As Atticus's eyes pierced through the darkness, his gaze meeting the blood red eyes of the Shadow Seraphon, his lips curled up into a satisfying grin.
"Found you," Atticus's words sounded, causing the Shadow Seraphon to feel shivers coursing through every inch of its whole being. It was a feeling it hardly ever felt, one it hated feeling to the core.
Before the beast could even recover from its severed tendrils, multiple silver slates suddenly appeared in Atticus's hand as he instantly channeled his mana into each of them, tossing them in every corner across the expansive space.
Each of them instantly lit up with intensity, illuminating the once pitch black space.
Atticus's gaze instantly focused on the massive figure of the beast dangling down from the ceiling, using some of its massive tendrils to hang onto some of the stalagmites sticking out from the ceiling.
"It healed," Atticus muttered to himself.
