The air around Clyde changed immediately. The thin arcs of electricity crawled along the Demonic Sword now and it thickened by the seconds, turning from faint threads into violent streams of white-blue light.
They wrapped around his forearm, slithered across his shoulders, and snapped outward in sharp bursts that cracked against the blood-soaked walls and floor. The corridor brightened with every pulse.
The four felt it immediately.
The caster's brows drew together. That wasn't the magic power she recognized from Clyde earlier. It wasn't elemental manipulation in the conventional sense. The magic power from that lightning felt denser. The air felt ionized, heavy, and unstable.
The spear-wielder man narrowed his eyes, trying to trace the origin of the energy flow, but it did not behave like a standard skill activation.
And Clyde was grinning.
His face was drenched in blood. Red streaks ran down from his hairline across his cheek and jaw.
