The storm had now covered the entire sky that I could see, and its spread was now beginning to accelerate as I seemed to have broken an unknown threshold, and the chains of blood extended into the sky like the roots of a dead tree, each one carrying a soul that had been added to my weight.
Below me, the earth began to crack as the rain of blood fell in sheets, and the skull-fields spread across the earth like a plague. I looked down at all of this, and I felt… nothing.
The Arcanist in the city was still alive. I could feel his presence, trying to hold back the storm with a barrier of crystallized will and folded space. He was good at manipulating this barrier, and I watched him for a moment, learning from him, but I soon grew bored, not because he was not skilled, but because the operation of his Anima was too slow.
