From within the Divine Shell came an enraged roar. Yet amidst the sound, Ange could feel a trace of despair and melancholy. For a powerful consciousness to express its fury solely through a roar, its plight must indeed be a miserable one.
Ange's mind drifted to a vision: He stood on a small hill, below stretched fields and crops engulfed in flames. Tiny sparks, carried by the rising heat, floated into the sky, blotting out the sun...
Instinctively, Ange felt anger bubbling within him. But he quickly snapped out of it, blinking and discarding the imagery from his soul.
Such a potent influence.
Just the roar alone carried such infectious power. Whatever was inside the Divine Shell was undoubtedly of the same level as himself. It was a pity—such a formidable presence, now imprisoned within the shell, reduced to a Crystal Stone-like energy source.
Ange placed his hand on the Divine Shell, sending his thoughts inward.
