Thalion stood at a crossroads, caught between instinct and strategy. The battle unfolding around him was one ant for blood, but he had no desire to kill the elf. No — he wanted sothing far more valuable than a corpse.
The system shop hovered only a thought away, and there had to be a way, so loophole, to steal that skill. He had claid the eyes of the vampiress before, so why not this as well? The only problem was simple but urgent: how to knock the elf unconscious without killing him.
At this point, the special quest and its rewards barely registered in his thoughts. Whether the other elves would seek revenge or not had already beco a certainty in his mind — their pride alone guaranteed it. But Thalion’s focus was consud by that skill. He needed it. No matter the price.
His mind whirred with possibilities. Eagly, with his high wind affinity, could make perfect use of the technique, but Thalion’s ambitions stretched beyond that. He imagined binding the skill to darkness, rging it with the shadows. From what he had seen, the ability not only accelerated the user’s healing but allowed teleportation as well. The crippled Eclipsari he had encountered lacked any form of movent skill, and this — this would be the perfect complent to the darkness elent.
Every ti Thalion loosed another arrow, he whispered a silent prayer, willing the attack to maim rather than kill. The elf was no novice, far from it. Despite the relentless onslaught, his opponent showed no signs of exhaustion or retreat. In fact, the elf had begun retaliating with his own brand of fury — slicing the air with sharpened wind slashes.
But at this range, Thalion barely needed to move. He sidestepped the attacks with ease, never once halting the formation of his next arrow. Even as his mind plotted, his gaze flicked toward the bows runes, curious about the strange effect they had on the flow of blood. They seed to stabilize it in ways Thalion didn’t yet understand, but the potential was clear. If he could replicate that technique, his own blood manipulation would leap to terrifying new heights.
The elf, however, was beginning to crack. Subtle at first: the stiffening of shoulders, the narrowing of eyes. Desperation. If this went on much longer, the elf would turn and flee. Thalion couldn’t allow that. Without a second thought, he reabsorbed the floating blood around him, letting his body fall back toward the earth, simultaneously reducing the power channeled into his Crimson Garden.
The elf’s lips curled into a cold, vicious smile the mont Thalion touched the ground. His silhouette blurred as he lunged forward, blade flashing. Thalion exhaled slowly.
Perfect.
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