A few minutes had passed, with Damon silently lamenting the destruction of the mana cores. Ashborn was both flame and shadow… the shadow devoured flesh, but the flame? The flame obliterated the first-rank mana cores inside the Wraithwood Stalkers.
A shame there were no more left to kill—he'd gotten carried away and burned them all at once.
Using Ashborn was dangerous, but it was a powerful trump card. And with his new mastery in Pain Resistance, he'd wanted to see just how much agony he could endure. Even at level 3, the resistance barely dulled it.
Any more, and he risked mental burnout. He'd have to avoid using it too often… unless he wanted his mind to snap.
He paused, breathing out. Mental anguish. He wasn't feeling it—not really. Not even after enduring ten times the pain of burning alive. His gaze dropped to the Pale Crown armor hugging his body. Passive. Light. Calming.
It helped relive the anguish in his mind.
