"Man, if only I have those pocket space thingy to carry all of these with me,"
Using the wind manipulation spell, Yroa brought the corpses of Yiexha and Zerath with him like some sort of floating baggage, all while leaning his cheek on the sharp edge of the Unraveling Height as if it was a cushion.
He descended from the Temple of Yar'hala quite slowly using the same aforementioned spell. It seemed like being trapped for a long time inside the prison realm had skewed his perception of time to an extent.
"Ah right, I can do this now." Yroa shifted the thick, corrupted, metallic cuffs on his wrist to fuse with his skin, freeing her hand for a much more flexibility in movement. "The corrupted matter seems to have been forged inside my body into something completely different. Unlike before, it took a much more metallic and silvery form."
