In the aftermath of the explosion that completely destroyed half of the entire fourth floor, two figures stood upright within the cloud of smoke.
One's entire being crackling with an electric air, whilst the other was adorned by a burning blue plasma.
"Oi, that really hurt you fucker."
Berkah said, his piercing blue eyes planted below his feet, where the infertile ground once stood.
[So this is what lies beneath the floors...]
He mused, noticing that beneath the ground was the same holographic walls as what contained each of the floors, an endless pit of darkness.
"My apologies... It was not my intention whatsoever to bring harm to you, child of Featherblade. "
Zarathian retorted sarcastically, his colorful wings fluttering.
"Oh really? You could have fooled me you butterfly bastard."
Berkah fluttered his wings, ridding them of the dust that had accumulated on their feathers.
