Jax stood face to face with Eryndel.
Blood still dripping from his wounds. Body screaming in protest. But standing nonetheless.
He glanced behind him.
Nerith's mother was there, her arms wrapped protectively around her daughter. Both women watching with desperate, tear-streaked eyes.
And beside them—General Ithris.
The same man who had tried to slap Nerith just minutes ago now looked at Jax with something entirely different.
Hope.
'Even if he loves his daughter that doesn't change the fact that he had chose position over daughter or whatever it was.'
All of them stood behind a line of soldiers—mage units, judging by their robes and the staves they carried. They had erected shimmering barriers around the battlefield.
Not just to protect the spectators.
But to contain the fighters.
A magical cage ensuring the sacred sanctum remained pristine while its occupants attempted to murder each other.
'I was wrong about these asshole demons they do care of some stuffs too.'
