steven amethyst

It hit him dead-on, with the audience looking away, not wanting to see their prince reduced to a pile of melted bones, but though steam and smoke filled the air around Seraph, he was unharmed, albeit soaked. His aura had protected him, undoing the magic enhancement on the water, so when it hit him, it was chemically inert. The moment the blast ended, Seraph dropped his defenses, gasping for air from fatigue. What he would give to be even half as powerful as he was a year ago. He didn’t have time to rest, as Phune immediately commenced another attack. A continuous jet of water slammed against his raised palms and clashed with the light aura before him. Every loose drop hitting the ground smoked from the acidic burn, a reminder of what would happen if his strength or focus faltered for even a second.

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.

As she expected the next day, her father was in his chipper mood, catching him only as he left the house given it was the start of a new week.