gray sprunki

That said, Viktor was bringing the power as well. He extended his arms, and his hands caught fire, with his flesh blackening and hardening, soon resembling cracked volcanic rock. “With these hands, I slaughtered our foolish master and the rest of those whelps. Now, when I close them around your throat, I wonder which will kill you first, the heat or the strangulation?”“I’ll sever those hands and lay them upon their graves, so they know they’ve been avenged!”

He attacked Ingram, and the two went at it again, exchanging kicks and punches while the audience cheered them on. The winged fighters were throwing everything they had at each other, with adrenaline flooding their veins and the blood steaming as it flowed from their wounds. Every lesson they had ever learned, every technique they had acquired, every spark of experience they had, they directed into their moves, punching and kicking as hard as they could, with mana roaring around their limbs.

He pushed against the seal, using his mana to separate from his clone, but it was like he was buried in concrete. He couldn’t project his mana even a centimeter beyond his skin. It was even more difficult than performing his workout, but this was precisely what he wanted. Saimallah said that he and his fellow monks used these headbands to train their projection abilities, and there was no better way than this. As he struggled and strained, the seal began to give, ever so slightly, feeling less like concrete and more like rubber.