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At that moment, Roc was helpless, and Ingram didn’t let the chance go to waste. He kneed Roc in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs, and then grabbed Roc by the arm and one of his wings and leaped off the edge of the arena. In midair, he seized Roc’s legs with his feet, leaving him unable to fly or resist as he took to the air, rising into the sky above the arena, and then dropping into a divebomb. His plan was simple: fall towards the arena with Roc in his grip, then let go and pull back, sending Roc crashing into the ground before landing daintily like a butterfly over the pulverized eagle warrior.

“Oh yes, I’ve identified warriors who will create quite a mess once they are imbued with the power of the Profane, whether they want to or not.”

Once again, Seraph thought back to Foley, and how they faced off in their duel at the academy. The stubborn dwarf had withstood a similar attack from Seraph, deflecting Seraph’s light blast even while spitting up blood. Seraph kept that image in his mind and slowly began to approach Phune. Now, it was a war of attrition to see who would lose their strength first. Would Seraph falter and be annihilated, or would Phune’s burning river turn into a dripping faucet? With every step Seraph took, that question echoed through the minds of everyone observing. The audience sat with bated breath, waiting to see if their prince would succeed.