To kill a blessed.
Azrael, fueled by a cocktail of fury and desperation, charged at Neveah. His movements, however, were sluggish, his strength waning. Neveah sidestepped the attack with effortless grace, the back tip of his ice spear hit his stomach, clearly not taking this serious or so Azrael thought, a mockery. The futility of it all, his own weakness, tore at Azrael's heart, fueling his rage further.
"Pathetic," Neveah muttered, his voice cold and detached.
Across the chamber, Axl watched with a twisted sense of glee. Neveah's relentless assault had subdued Kim and Astrid, but it was clear Neveah was getting fatigued, he was not as ruthless as before.
This was his chance. A cruel smile stretched across his face as he pulled out a small, ornately carved orb from his pocket. Dark energy pulsed from the artifact, swirling around it like a miniature storm.