Puki was suspended in mid-air, wrapped in roots, the mycelium tendrils hanging limply, looking like it was resigned to its fate.
Its two little legs occasionally twitched involuntarily, otherwise remaining still, as if it were just an "ignorant wild Demon."
On the other side, Old Deng, the Elf, was still unaware of the gravity of the situation, struggling fiercely.
Time and again, he tried to gather Magic Power within himself, but each time he made some progress, the roots entwined around him would tremble slightly, instantly scattering the Power he painfully accumulated.
After several futile attempts, his wounds were aggravated, causing a trail of fresh blood to flow from the corner of his mouth.
"Such level of control... Who are you?" Ilo's voice was suppressed by pain.
There was a subtle sound of plants being crushed in the darkness, followed by soft glows appearing between the sea of flowers around them.
