The three-horned supervisor gnashed his teeth, a harsh, grating sound like grinding granite echoing clearly through the frozen, crystalline cavern that his slaughterhouse had become.
The intense pressure radiating from Noah's domain spell pressed down on his chest like a physical weight, forcing his breath out in shallow, desperate plumes of white vapor.
He stared at Noah with a deep frown, his features contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom.
His dull white, pupilless eyes flamed with a cornered, defensive fury as he looked across the field of crackling blue blossoms at the motionless, masked silhouette of the young arch magus who still hadn't taken his hands out of his cloak.
The realization that he was entirely trapped within a, field of ice and lightning pushed the supervisor past the threshold of caution.
He couldn't afford to stand frozen against the wall like an execution victim waiting for the final stroke.
