Arson was a crime both here and in Fall of Ares, for good reason too.
It wasn't just destruction — it was desecration.
It was stripping someone of shelter, livelihood, and memory, all in a single blaze.
There was a reason fire mages had been both revered and feared during the empire's great wars.
They could destroy not just soldiers, but everything you had ever worked for.
Azel took a deep breath, fingers brushing against the edges of the Ghost's Cloak.
The shadow-woven fabric clung to him like a second skin.
He pulled the hood tighter, shaking away the nervous thrum in his chest.
He wasn't afraid of a fight — he could probably hold his ground, heal, and even endure if the swarm came for him.
But this wasn't about brute strength.
This was about precision.
He needed to remove the whole hive at once, just like he planned to.
