I sat in the air, cross-legged, and I waited for the eruption to grow before I harvested. My mind flashed back to hundreds of deaths ago, when I was a desperate and broken Acolyte, measuring every bit of power… breaking my body and soul against a tide of demons that seemed endless. Now the scars I carried in my soul could drown those below by an order of magnitude.
The Narghul Sorcerer's remains were still drifting down through the red haze, and the fragments of its core and shadow essence were feeding my channels. The sensation was familiar, comforting in a way that I had not expected.
I looked down at Commander Rel's body. She lay in a pool of her own blood, her eyes still open, her face frozen in an expression of shock and pain. I did not feel satisfaction at her death; not until everything was truly over would I smile at the deaths of these people.
