The world dissolved into a sickening blur of black and red. Sylus plummeted, the golden spear still impaled in his chest, a searing brand that stole his breath. The air screamed past him, a cold, indifferent rush that mirrored the emptiness in his lungs. He could feel the warmth of his blood, a stark contrast to the chilling void he was descending into. 'This is it again,' a detached part of his mind registered, 'another death.'
His mana, already stretched thin from shielding his men and maintaining his copied commands, was a flickering candle in a hurricane. Sophia remained dormant, a silent weight within him, her own reserves seemingly depleted. He was weak, vulnerable, a mere human falling into the abyss.
Then, a flash of desperate purple in the darkness above. Zani.
