The deaths of his former colleagues flashed before his eyes, accompanied by intense pain, mercilessly twisting and tugging at Nesanel's nerves. In those layers of harsh and desolate visions, familiar faces overlapped, their mouths agape as if whispering softly to Nesanel, or perhaps screaming at him.
"No..."
Nesanel seemed to be confiding in the hallucinations of faces, or perhaps talking to himself.
"No... no no no..."
Nesanel continuously denied, his once calm heart reignited with fervor, exhausted muscles and nerves tensed once more, and his unclenched fists gripped tightly again.
With all his might, he swung his fist, clashing the roaring Ether with the Thunder Dragon. Behind the dazzling orb, he drove away the Thunder in one stroke.
Nesanel couldn't die here; he would crawl back to the Order Bureau if he had to. That was his only wish now, yet even this solitary wish, fate was unwilling to answer.
