Alex pulled Luò Rì Gōng's soul apart, infusing both halves with a plentiful amount of Aether directly from Sanguis' ample reserves, making sure neither piece broke apart further or became damaged.
The pain of such an action was unimaginable, he surmised, as he watched the man's face go through all stages of terror at once, the colour draining from his face, howling in pain before crumpling in place like a wet rag.
Of course, he couldn't fall to the ground, as there was none, so Alexander watched him shrivel into a husk, breathing ragged, sweat pouring from every pore of his skin, as he shook like an epileptic child in the middle of an episode.
But the result of his painful action was two perfectly symmetrical pieces of soul, both pieces still burning white with golden tinges, albeit a little dimmer at the moment.
He could only guess this was because of the forced rupture. But he could already tell it wasn't a permanent effect.
