Air rushed past him as he dropped. He adjusted his body mid-fall, aiming precisely for the source of the pressure below, the boy at the center of it all. The one standing unnaturally still amid the dust and rubble.
The youth's clothes clung to him, dark and torn, bandages peeking from beneath his sleeves and wrapping unevenly around his limbs. They fluttered as they began to unravel, whipped by the spiraling air around him. Dust and rubble swirled in wide circles, drawn by the force radiating from his body.
He couldn't see the mana itself, but he could feel it, a weight pressing against his chest, a low hum that grew sharper the closer he got. The air was trembling, the energy condensing like a storm about to break.
And the ringing, by the time he landed, it was deafening.
