Veth raised his arm slowly.
The blood around him responded; pulling inward from every direction on the battlefield, condensing into something denser and darker than anything he'd used before. It gathered above his palm in a rotating mass, the color of it deepening from red to something closer to black at the core.
"Crimson Requiem," he said quietly.
The name alone felt heavy.
The mass above his palm pulsed once; the shockwave from it alone cracked the ground beneath his feet in a perfect circle.
Then he looked at Arlott.
Still on one knee. Left arm hanging useless. Sword in his right hand, it's tip touching the ground, the only thing keeping him anchored.
Veth tilted his head.
"Still"
Arlott's hand tightened around the grip.
Slowly, he stood.
"This isn't over yet," he said.
Veth stared at him.
