Thorne flew just below the battling highlords, feeling the backlash of their techniques slam into him with raw deadliness, tearing into him, his body healing back rapidly. An adept would be reduced to nothing but red mist this close to them, and an average lord would carry deadly injuries, but not Thorne, no, he was something different. Eyes on the Highlady known as Sabri, he considered his options as he came face to face with the particular cultivator that was the cause of all his woes.
Turning his gaze to the distance where another lord, the daughter of the Verdan Highlord sought to stem the tides of revenant creatures pouring out of the rift duplicator that was on its last legs. Thorne gave a soft smile, not sure why he was this calm, his eyes turning back up again as he raised his hand. Aura gathered in it, lashing out till he shaped it with his willpower, fusing Ethra with it as well to create a projected sword he held in his grasp.