The last remnants of the mana beam dissolved into motes of light in Zane's palm, fading as if they had never existed.
Dren's breath hitched.
His fingers trembled around the Heart of the Deep Forge, runes flaring erratically as his thoughts spiraled.
Just a little more…
They should be ready… by now…!
Zane flexed his fingers once, shaking off the residual mana like dust.
"That was dangerous," he said lightly, a smile playing on his lips.
Mira rushed forward instinctively.
"P-Professor Zane—are you okay?!"
Grom's voice followed, rough with tension.
"Are you fine, lad…?"
Zane glanced back at them, utterly relaxed.
"I'm fine," he said, nodding once.
"But let's finish this."
His gaze returned to Dren.
Dren felt it.
That pressure—no, that presence—locking onto him.
"W-what…?" Dren stammered, backing instinctively, the barrier shimmering as if sensing his fear. "S-stop him!"
Shadows burst outward.
