The Spell kept whispering, the rich tapestry of its voice creating a strange harmony with itself. The result was almost distracting. Sunny instantly lost count of how many creatures he had killed with that single arrow, but it seemed to be… seemed to be close to a hundred, at least.
The swarm was nothing short of decimated. Half of the Black Tongues were dead, and the remaining half were fried and damaged to different degrees. The water of the mountain lake, which had been freezing cold just a few seconds ago, seemed to be boiling.
He had also been lucky enough to receive a bunch of Memories. Even if most of them came from Awakened abominations… Saint was definitely going to eat well tonight.
If she survived, that is.
