Every ounce of focus was on tearing through the man in front of him. Mana bled from him in great waves, divine affinity coating his strikes in searing brilliance, darkness weaving through his footwork like living chains, blood affinity pumping speed and strength far past his limits.
System Notification: Mana output surpassing sustainable threshold.
The voice was distant, irrelevant.
Veythar's blade flashed, steel blurred faster than most could see. Lindarion caught the strike with a burst of condensed ice, the edge shattering the shield but losing just enough momentum for him to step inside Veythar's guard.
His hand lit with divine light and slammed into the Sword Saint's chest.
A shockwave tore the air apart.
Veythar was thrown back, not far, but enough to dig his heels in and reassess. The faintest grin touched the demon's face.
"That's more like it," he said.
