The hot wind blew across the slope of the Great Volcano.
Ash danced through the air, carried by irregular currents rising from the depths of the mountain. Volcanic stones cracked beneath the constant heat escaping from the crater, some splitting in half with small, dry explosions.
At the center of that circle of death, surrounded by four Spiritual Awakening experts...
Kyrian remained motionless.
Silent.
His orange eyes, with small red flames dancing within his pupils, watched the old man in front of him. The flames swayed slowly, like two living embers in a dark night.
No weapon appeared in his hands.
No sword. No spear. Nothing.
Not because he lacked weapons. His spatial ring contained several.
But they would be useless.
The sword he had used before, a blade of mediocre quality, was nothing compared to the old man's spiritual spear. The material, the refinement, the Qi infused into the weapon... everything was on a different level.
