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“So many wonderful, horrible things,” Noah mused. He then turned around and walked away, humming to himself as Bojena sat there in the street, her life flashing before her eyes.

Roc struggled against Ingram, but desperation made the man’s grip as solid as steel shackles. With all three limbs and one of his wings locked in Ingram’s grip, he could do nothing to fight back. He couldn’t even save himself when Ingram finally let go. Was this it? Was he going to lose? Was he going to die? If he just had his arm, he could win, but without it, this was the end. Plummeting towards the ground, he glanced at the useless remains of the appendage. If he at least had his elbow, he could have affixed a wooden hand or a blade, something to help even him out, but he was just left with a useless stump, like a clipped wing.“Damn you, Noah,” he hissed.

He couldn’t maintain this state for long, and eventually snapped out of it, gasping for air as if he had lost a lung. He had to be careful with this training method, as there was no telling what health dangers it posed. He resumed meditating, slowly replenishing his mana reserves. Once they had reached a decent level, an idea occurred to him. He summoned his clone, feeling it overlap his presence with a copy, but now, he was unable to separate from it. The headband was trapping his mana within his body, making him feel wrapped in a thick layer of insulation.