Torin felt his breathing hitch in his throat. His survival instinct seemed to kick in all on its own, his Will flourishing and his body pulsing with radiant might that sent the other F-tiers around him sprawling.
The powerful aura of a rampaging Ape filled the skies, the howls that formed Torin's fear taking physical form and shape as though he was being spurred on by something.
Madness.
Sylas was looking right at him, threads of crimson streaming through his eyes as he unleashed his Runeweaver Eyes.
Ever since Sylas got his hands on this Profession, he had learned to suppress it. His Will was too powerful, and with his eyes becoming a new gateway to apply it to the world, its potency became too strong on a day-to-day basis.
Even while it was suppressed, Old Brama thought him to be a Charysm. But now… he was unleashing it on purpose.
