Azel let the sword vanish from his hand as he sucked in a deep breath and sat back on the snow.
The cold immediately bit into him, seeping through his clothes and numbing his skin, but it felt almost welcome compared to the throbbing in his hands.
His knuckles burned as though he'd been smashing stone bare-fisted, and his arms trembled faintly no matter how hard he tried to steady them.
His aura reserves were nearly dry — scraped thin to the last threads of energy. That fact alone made him shake his head.
As someone who prided himself on having a vast sea of aura, he wasn't easily exhausted.
He'd always believed himself durable in ways few others could match. Yet here he was, panting on a snowy battlefield, his chest rising and falling like he had run a marathon.
It was… shocking.
'…I know I've said it too many times at this point, but damn, that guy really was a monster.'
The thought replayed itself again and again in his head as his body cooled down.
