The Wrath of Fire

Ezrahl fisted his hand.

And the giant beast was minced into nothingness. The remnants of its rage unravelled in the form of crashing winds of the storm, they made the earth tremble, screaming through the forests before fading into a quiet hiss.

The crimson gleam in his eyes was darker than blood.

Aesther took a few steps back, preparing to make the rational choice. But as her gaze lingered over the blood dripping from his palm, she paused.

"What are you going to do?"

The wolves were known to have great innate healing abilities.

She knew she would be fine. But not Ezrahl.

"I can't fight for long," he admitted, rising on his feet, "If we want to find Ahzure, it seems inevitable to directly confront the demon."

His dark gaze met hers, "You need to leave this place as soon as possible. Don't wander away, don't think about anything else, and report this to Lady Eleonora."

Aesther quietly listened to him. Her lips set into a small frown as she blankly stared at the night sky.