Mana churned around them, thick and electric, like the air itself had turned volatile. The man looked up, his eyes catching on the enormous magic circle burning in the sky above, its intricate patterns weaving with an eerie glow.
"Oi, oi, didn't she just cast that earlier?" he muttered, tension lacing his voice. "How the hell can she still pull this off? Shouldn't she be out of mana after that last attack?"
He knew the Sarushima clan's limits well. Their power was fearsome, with raw, destructive force, but their mana reserves were low. They couldn't afford to cast recklessly, or they'd be spent in no time. And after the force of her previous spell—strong enough that he'd needed Marmiadoise's full power to block it—she should be empty.
