In the deep recesses of the streets, ruins abound.
The night squirmed.
The thick fog of blood, mixed with the scent of gore, filled Tuck's lungs.
His chest, after all, had been stabbed into a bloody mess by that bishop, the magic gunman.
"Drip-drip...drip-drip..."
Trickles of fresh blood, flowing down the shattered Dragon Scale Armor, kept dropping continuously.
"Whoosh...lah..."
As flames infused with Light Power rose.
Tuck's Transcendent State, [Lord, Old Day, Light Flame Form], swiftly bloomed.
Once in the Light Flame Form, Tuck burned intensely, like a small sun.
Before long, the chest cavity, wrecked by darkness power, almost completely recovered.
"When it comes to confrontations between mid-high rank Transcendents, having a Transcendent State really is essential to hold one's ground," Tuck murmured to himself, assessing his wounds.
The close-range combat with the Dark Sun magic gunman had just erupted with astonishing destructive power in the blink of an eye.
