Valdris stood across from Ulrich with rain falling over his black hair and bloodied face.
The ship's deck had become a ruin.
Broken weapons lay scattered across the wet planks. Bodies covered parts of the deck and the gangplank. The remains of the ship's ram continued to burn behind Ulrich, flames flickering weakly beneath the rain. Smoke drifted low over the harbor water.
Ulrich remained on one knee near the broken railing.
Blood ran from his mouth.
His body ached beneath the soaked white shirt. The impact against the wooden ramp had driven pain through his ribs and spine. His right hand remained closed around the black anti-magic sword, though his fingers had begun to feel numb again.
The crimson Orbit Rings around him were almost gone.
Only a few remained.
They moved slowly around his body, weakened and damaged from the battle. The silver aura still spiraled around him, thin streams of pale light twisting across his shoulders, arms, and legs.
Valdris watched it carefully.
