"Don't relax, kid… your Wraith of the World is far from over." Blob's calm but heavy voice echoed in Max's mind just as he lowered his sword and prepared to descend.
Max froze midair, blinking in surprise. "It isn't?" he asked, tilting his head back toward the sky. The black clouds still loomed above, thick and ominous, their darkness almost suffocating. That same crushing, oppressive feeling still lingered in the air, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn't shake off.
"A normal Wraith of the World," Blob explained solemnly, "is meant to restrict experts from breaking the world's balance. It uses the laws of the world themselves against them. And here's the thing—one must endure the Wraith for every law they've comprehended. In your case…"
The voice in his mind paused for a fraction of a second, almost as if savoring the weight of the words. "…you will go through four Wraiths. One for each of your elements—sword, flames, lightning, and space."
