Damned Fake!

Only the great tower of darkness remained standing amid what looked like course, blackened, brittle gravel.

More than a third of the Tremur forest had been incinerated, leaving it full of large, unsightly craters, black soil and a pathetically feeble presence of mana.

All the nearby lifeforms had been killed instantly when the dark arrow had hit.

It had, after all, been an arrow infused with powers that overwhelmed the natural mana flow in the world, breaking it down and whatever was supported by it.

The inner portions of the Tremur, including the large path in which the dark arrow had streaked through, now resembled what could be dubbed a Deity-forsaken desert constantly hissing with toxic fumes and dark smoke.

No combatant on Aigas could have taken a hit from the arrow head-on and survived. Even the Herald Jerthrax would have fallen at once despite his proud scales.