As soon as Deklan captured the Riven-Mouthed Maiden, he dropped to the ground.
His back was against the fence.
Even though he tried reaching for something, anything, with his hand, to stop himself from falling, his hands only grasped the air. Deklan plummeted to the ground, sagging against the wall as his body went limp from overexertion.
His vision swarmed, the world ahead reduced to a wavering blur.
Several flickering notifications from the system appeared, but his eyes were too blurry to read them.
And even if he could, his mind was too worn out to think of anything.
Pumple watched in composed stillness as Deklan's chest heaved up and down rapidly.
Potions… I need potions.
Since his mana reserve was depleted entirely, his Ghostly body was shutting down.
