He should step in, right? After all, he would never let anyone who dared hurt the people he cherished get away with it! Remembering how fiercely protective his friend was, Doranbolt could not help chuckling despite the tension and apprehension weighing on him.
"Cough, cough... I imagine you're thinking of that True God of Death. Other than him, I doubt anyone has the strength to turn the tide of this battle..." As he pondered, Azuma's feeble coughing suddenly reached his ears. Doranbolt did not seem at all surprised.
Turning to look at Azuma, who was slowly emerging from a large tree in the distance, Doranbolt said flatly, "What if I am? What if I'm not? Still, I have to say, surviving that explosion just now... you really are hard to kill, Azuma of the Seven Kin of Purgatory!"
"Heh, you're strong. Far stronger than I ever imagined. I barely managed to save my life with the special abilities of my Arc of the Great Tree magic, but I no longer have the strength to fight. I imagine you're much the same, Doranbolt of the Magic Council—no, the True God of Death's friend!" With a bitter chuckle, Azuma slumped weakly onto the ground as well. Giving Doranbolt a long look, he said gravely, "You haven't truly mastered that spell you just used, have you?! Otherwise, I'd already be dead. How could I have survived to sit here talking to you...?"
"Although you exhausted almost all your magic power in the process, and even got caught in the spell's eruption yourself, there's no doubt that you won this fight... Is this the power of those convictions you said you once inherited? It truly is a formidable power. I admit defeat..."
A trace of respect had entered his voice—respect for a powerful opponent