Isril fell to the ground since he had frozen Tristan's left side. He coughed violently, experiencing a world of pain thanks to his broken ribs. Spitting out the blood that had rushed to his throat, he cleared his insides before making that small puddle of blood and tissue freeze.
His mind still buzzed from what had just happened, and truth be told, he felt a tad bit shaken up. Were it not for his affinity, he believed he would have been close to death's door.
Fortunately, his healing kicked in, and in no time the little damage done to his insides and his broken rib vanished, granting him relief.
Or so he thought.
The sound of his ice casing cracking reached his ears, and he snapped his head up, surprised. He had not frozen Tristan's head to ensure he did not die, but still, his recovery rate was abnormal. Then again, he recalled whom he was fighting.
