Silver lightning tore through the air. Kaelor's aura erupted from him like a dying star, arcs of power whipping outward as he planted his feet and faced the green-haired killer. Blood darkened the Swordmaster's side, but his stance remained unwavering, blade held in the Iron Gate position that had been drilled into Soren since his first day of training.
"Run," Kaelor growled without turning, the command meant for those behind him. "Get the nobles out. Now."
Sylas regarded the wounded Swordmaster with something like professional curiosity. "Admirable," he said, voice still conversational despite the chaos surrounding them. "Most would have fled by now."
"Not done with you yet," Kaelor snarled. The silver lightning of his aura intensified, crackling along his blade and spiraling up his arm.
