I watched, frozen, as the chaos unfolded around me, helpless beneath the iron grip of Azael's shadowy control. Every muscle in my body was held tight, immobilized by invisible chains that pressed painfully into my bones. My mind screamed against the binding, clawed desperately at the edges of my consciousness, but no matter how fiercely I fought, the enchantment was stronger. It whispered into my veins, filled my blood with cold, thick darkness, drowning any trace of free will beneath its oppressive weight.
In the distance, the human warrior glowing irritatingly bright with that damned holy sword continued his relentless assault on Azael. His every strike sent dazzling flares of divine magic streaking through the air, clashing spectacularly against the dark power my captor wielded. It was like watching a storm battle the sunrise: fierce, vibrant, breathtakingly dangerous, and completely infuriating.
