The seventh bell didn't change Morgus's appearance any further.
But the amount of aura available to him had increased tremendously.
His power had reached its absolute peak.
Jackson glanced down at himself, then around the battlefield.
His body was riddled with wounds, blood leaking from what felt like a hundred different places. One of his hands was completely burned, an injury that would probably remain with him forever even if he somehow survived.
They had lost three hunters.
Among them was a tremendously talented young woman who had been reduced to ashes.
Only Jackson and Gustav remained.
And Gustav was beginning to break beneath the horrifying pressure radiating from Morgus.
After watching his companions die and suffering serious injuries of his own, his grip around his weapon loosened.
His shoulders trembled.
"It's useless…"
A bitter, broken laugh escaped Gustav.
"We're never going to defeat him…"
He looked completely defeated.
