On that floating landmass of stone, surrounded by lightning that crackled and roared with power that had nothing to do with weather, there was a heavy silence.
The Saint of Stone and the Holy Daughter looked at the scene of devastation displayed in the pool of Mana between them, watching as the young warrior they had been observing finished his grim work with methodical efficiency. They had witnessed him cover ridiculously vast distances with a few leaps, had seen the expression of his power as he reduced a force of dozens to scattered remains across the stones below.
The bodies were cooling now.
The threat to that small tribe surrounded by purple stones had been eliminated with a thoroughness that left no room for survivors or revenge.
"What a unique thing."
The Saint of Stone spoke first, her stellar blue eyes still fixed on the image of the young man.
