darleen josephine

“You don’t want to fuck me again?”“Well, yeah, but…”“You’d rather go back to trying to finger Missy Yeager? And getting shot down all the time?”

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.

Eventually, he had to stop and rest, unable to complete his workout. The fact that it was so challenging meant that he was doing something right. He assumed the lotus position on the floor and began meditating to regain his strength. Now that he was no longer moving, the crushing force of the magical restraints eased, while still keeping his mana suppressed. Curious, he decided to practice his spiritual sense training. The Harajin had a method of invisibility known as Bakudan, in which they would slow the flow of their mana, near to the point of a complete halt, and that stillness would allow them to blend in with their environment, as if reality itself had overlooked them. It also helped hone one’s awareness of the ethereal.