Battle

A pair of long, broad hands reached out.

They steadily caught the figure falling from the sky.

"Mr. Gilan, you did it..."

Burning Marquis crouched halfway to the ground, holding up the severely wounded young man with both hands.

Gilan fought back the tidal wave of exhaustion and drowsiness, painfully shifting his body as he climbed down from Burning Marquis's hands.

He collapsed into a sitting position and summoned his cane to support himself.

"Thank you for your help as well, Burning Marquis..."

Gilan's eyelids hung half-open, his dry, pale lips parting as he spoke weakly.

He saw that Burning Marquis was not in as good a state as he had imagined. The other party was covered in wounds and smoke, and even the enormous bat wings on its back were riddled with holes and tattered beyond recognition.

Clearly, Burning Marquis's battle with the two Patrollers had been extremely fierce. Though it had ultimately won and killed them all, it had suffered grave injuries as well.

"If you hadn't come to help, I probably wouldn't have been able to destroy that 'door'... Are your injuries all right?"

Gilan's lips moved, his voice hoarse and dry as he asked in what seemed like a joke.

Burning Marquis chuckled.

"Those two April Patrollers were not skilled in combat. Only their 'Soulfire' was somewhat formidable, but to me, that damage was merely a new delicacy... You needn't worry about me, sir. Your current condition, on the other hand, is far from encouraging."

"I'm fine." Gilan waved a hand.

Panting, he leaned on his cane and struggled to his feet.

But at that moment.

The temples on either side of Gilan's head throbbed once more.

His severely damaged spirituality still dutifully did its job, desperately warning him as though a deadly threat had descended.