Miles stepped out of the battlefield chamber, his scythe still pulsing with residual energy, his breath slow but steady. The weight of what had just happened pressed against him, though he refused to let it show. His body ached, his mind buzzed, but above all else, there was a strange, unsettling clarity settling over him.
It was not just battle clarity – not the state of flow that would have a fighter in their peak condition during extreme situations.
It was as if, the more Miles looked at Luna Sea's Master, the more he could perceive some kind of aura around the man.
It was faint at first, but then it became clearer and clearer. Golden, with slight hues of red and orange, swirling around him just like the sparks from which his items materialized themselves.
But before he could say or react to it in any manner, he heard Kurt's surprised whistle.