Worldscribe landed another beam of laser, while Lifewarden hurled swords made of golden light constructs at the commander of Highswords, all enraged and shouting at top of their lungs.
However, it was from the side that the most heartbreaking scream of rage echoed through the battlefield. The esper lady who had used the sleeping gas on Damian before now unleashed a whole tide of dangerous purple, molten, poisonous liquid. Even the fumes rising from it made Damian's stomach churn, forcing him to hold back the urge to vomit.
She must have been close to that lady he'd given his sword to. But Damian did not stop—not for a second. He covered his face with his arm and kept generating more and more liquid mana, the air shield barely kept the venom at bay.
There was no stopping that thing. The only option was to get out of here.
