Lyerin crouched beside the mangled corpses of the beasts he had just slain, his hand delving into the depths of their chests. The ichor-slicked remains were still warm, and the air carried the acrid tang of charred flesh and crushed bone. He extracted a handful of mana stones, each glowing faintly with eldritch light, their energy humming softly in his palm.
He examined them closely, the veins of mana flickering erratically within the stones, as if struggling to contain the raw power inside. He sighed and shook his head.
"This isn't enough," he muttered to himself, his tone low and disapproving. Standing, he clenched his fists, the mana stones grinding together in his grip before he carefully placed them into a small pouch tied to his belt. "If I want this to work... I'll need more. Much more."
