Caelen was struggling.
Struggling so hard he could barely feel his legs.
Every step sent fire tearing through his body. His cracked skin throbbed with searing heat, every pulse of molten light threatening to split him apart. His vision blurred, his breath ragged.
He knew he'd fucked up the moment he laid eyes on the priest—that monstrous thing had never been an A-Class boss.
Its weight, its pressure, its sheer killing intent… it was closer to S-Class. Maybe worse.
And had Elione not been there—his instincts, his plans, his reckless interference—Caelen knew the truth. Even if Lion's Fang had been with him, they would've struggled.
Some of them might not have survived.
But with Elione alone… he had cleared it.
Barely.
Caelen wanted to collapse where he stood. His body screamed for rest, his core overdrawn until pain flooded every nerve like acid. He'd pushed his ability far beyond its limits.
