The state of Unawareness—aka Oblivion.
I turned toward Isolde, narrowing my eyes at the sword in Lucian's hand. "That's not just a weapon, is it? That… that's his element. Oblivion."
She gave a quiet nod, her gaze locked on the distant figure of her husband. "Yes. Just like your element is Lightning and mine is Illusion, Lucian's is Oblivion."
I kept my eyes on the battlefield, watching the grotesque contrast between the dragon's blinding beams and Lucian's sword—a sword that shimmered like the distorted edge of a half-remembered dream, one that rejected attention, as if the very world struggled to render its form.
Each time I looked at it too long, my head ached like it was being cleaved apart from the inside.
The White Dragon of Grief roared, releasing yet another condensed beam of pure mana, obliterating everything it touched. Mountains were sliced into nothing, the air cracked and screamed, and the very sky rippled as if afraid to watch.
