On the other side of the battlefield, projectiles crashed like a raging flood on Adam's cocoon. The impacts sent tremors rocking him.
However, nothing passed through the pulsing elements fiercely protecting him.
After enduring for two minutes, his lips stretched into a grin, and he dismissed his barrier.
With a glance, he noticed the three Dreg'nar's ragged breaths and how they bent over to hold their knees in exhaustion.
"Out of mana already? That's sad because..."
He lingered, letting an ominous silence settle on his trembling enemies.
"I recovered."
His eyes were firmly planted in their sockets, glinting with a promise—the promise of death.
And he would deliver it now.
His knees bent, and his dark blade of adaptation's edges seemed to absorb the light like a black hole.
FWOOSH
The wind howled, whipping his red coat with a vengeance as he propelled himself towards his stunned enemies.
