Electric discharges ran among the clouds, filling the sky, becoming more active as the Crimson Monarch's energy accumulated.
The orb for the lightning shots was no bigger than a hand, easily fitting in the palm of his hand, but the bright sphere clutched between his hands gradually grew like a dwarf star ready for a glowing explosion.
The Crimson Monarch's gaze was devoid of its usual arrogance and pride. He was completely focused on his task—failure was unacceptable, for he risked much.
"Adam Vinter..." The Crimson Monarch wheezed in a low voice, "The dozen shells that flew into you didn't do any serious damage. That's good, very good..."
His gaze traveled downward, to the flames covering Adam and something else much deeper, just inside his inner space.
