The Layer of Ancients trembled violently, more than half of it was already reduced to rubble by the time the ancient story playing across the sky faded. The destruction only intensified with each passing second—and this was while Azazeal and Nathaniel were relying solely on their physical strength.
Far away, shrouded in dark mist, Cassian, who was walking aimlessly, stumbled and lost his footing due to the debris from the destruction raining down around him, nearly dragging him into the collapsing land below, which split apart under the pressure of the battle between Azazeal and Nathaniel. But before he could be buried under the rubble, an extremely cold hand grasped his wrist.
Cassian slowly lifted his dazed crimson eyes as he felt the prickling chill from the hand gripping his wrist, only to see a layer of ice creeping outward from the point of contact, spreading to cover his body. His gaze lifted further but froze as he met the familiar green eyes staring at him coldly.
