Clarence was too focused on regaining control over the rampaging force inside his wooden home. He believed the power was his from the beginning, and the only logical solution was to reclaim dominance over it.
But he had been mistaken from the start.
This enormous and destructive energy was never his. It was not his Woods Divine Magic. That was why he couldn't do anything to suppress its chaotic surge.
If his own magic had been stronger, perhaps he could have forced it into submission. But the truth was undeniable—his strength fell short. Even as the youngest High Priest to ever surpass the records of the Holy Temple of Elarion's founding, he was powerless before this incomprehensible force. And for the first time, he truly grasped that the young woman in black was no ordinary noble.
Clarence dropped to his knees, his breath shallow, his body frozen in silent resignation. All he could do was watch the storm of energy wreak havoc before him. He had lost all control.
