Twenty Minutes Earlier....
Greg watched Adam's figure emerge from the flames, whole and unharmed despite the barrage of high-level magic that should have reduced any normal being to ash. His grip on his staff tightened as he saw his soldiers faltering, their earlier confidence crumbling.
"Don't be afraid," Greg commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "We will only attack him with lethal strikes until he can no longer regenerate."
Beside him, Siva's eyes glowed with a faint, spectral light as he focused on Adam's form—reading the flow of mana, the resonance of his soul. His voice came out low, sharp with discovery.
"Commander. That man's mana is incredibly dense. And his soul... it's bound by several chains. I can't sense a clear anchor—something is protecting him."
Greg's expression flickered. His eyes narrowed as he processed the information. A flicker of something cold passed through them as he spoke.
