Makun had been overwhelmed. Every time he thought the mystic world could not get any stranger, it got worse.
The feeling in front of the ancient shadow was one he had not felt before.
It was different from when he had met the presence.
The energy from the presence had not been oppressive, but this, was something else. It felt like he could be devoured, his will snuffed out at any moment.
After Jorg's attack to counter the sword strike, Makun knew things had turned sour.
Jorg could not fight anymore, he had spent his Ashe.
Makun did not know how to proceed, how to get out of it. That was when he heard Orel's voice.
"Boss, now."
Directly after, an icy presence blanketed the bounded field.
It was chilling, extremely so, the temperature had dropped to immeasurable degrees.
Everything in the surrounding, the lamp posts, the cobblestones, dust in the air froze and cracked.
Makun felt his bones go cold. His body shivering.
