SIZZLE!
The words had barely left his lips when a fierce torrent of Holy Light enveloped Mandela. Levi stood before him, one hand outstretched, as an immense, concentrated stream of Holy Light burst from his palm.
It was like throwing open the shutters in a pitch-black room at dawn, allowing the piercing morning light to pour in.
"Why waste time on useless talk?" Levi said, clicking his tongue as he looked at Mandela's wretched state. "I have no interest in hearing your last words. If you have something to say, go tell Fulina yourself."
The shroud of Holy Light was like ice water hitting a bonfire. The Dragon Flame flared violently as the two forces clashed.
Though the Lord was dirt poor, he had more than enough Holy Light to spare. In a massive flood of Holy Light, the flames covering Mandela were extinguished in just two heartbeats.
Compared to the brilliant and valiant general from moments ago, Mandela now looked like a common street punk.
