dora márquez

“Excellent. Those puny humans think they’re safe, protected by the Wassengel, but if their fallen king has proven anything, it’s that they are helpless against a foe within their midst.”

Noah sighed. “I suppose I could dose the church agents with a mild poison before they enter the ring, but that’s not a reliable or subtle method. I also believe the church has hired someone to rig the matches like I’ve been, though I suppose the barrier will also hinder them. I can do it, but it’ll mean putting myself in harm’s way. In which case, I need more incentive.”“Such as?”

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.