12-24-2025, 01:24 AM
When Giovanni dismissed the electric sphere and turned it one of his men, something in Zholdin snapped.
He saw Limon float, restrained like a slab of meat for slaughter, his boots scraping helplessly on the floor. The man barked a curse, struggling, and Zholdin’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His eyes locked onto Giovanni with a look that could've cleaved stone.
“No,” he growled. A deep, guttural sound, barely human. “This wasn't the deal.”
The rage came first, blazing, unfiltered rage. The kind he'd been taught to swallow his whole life. But now it burned too hot. It clawed at his ribs like it wanted out. He imagined striking Giovanni, smashing him into the wall. He imagined tearing that smug fucking smirk off his face with his bare hands. He imagined grabbing that lightning with his own fingers and shoving it back down the magician's throat.
And suddenly something shifted. A heat bloomed deep inside his chest like the first breath of fire in a forge, and for a second, the air around his fingers shimmered. Something unseen twisted and coiled, like smoke in water. There was no crack of thunder, no burst of flame just a ripple of pressure targeting the sphere of electricity.
Zholdin's eyes widened, then narrowed. He felt it. He didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it was real.
He laughed. It wasn’t joyous, but it was something triumphant and savage. His fingers clenched like they could rip the feeling from the air and crush it into something usable.
((He channeled something to disperse the electricity))
He saw Limon float, restrained like a slab of meat for slaughter, his boots scraping helplessly on the floor. The man barked a curse, struggling, and Zholdin’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His eyes locked onto Giovanni with a look that could've cleaved stone.
“No,” he growled. A deep, guttural sound, barely human. “This wasn't the deal.”
The rage came first, blazing, unfiltered rage. The kind he'd been taught to swallow his whole life. But now it burned too hot. It clawed at his ribs like it wanted out. He imagined striking Giovanni, smashing him into the wall. He imagined tearing that smug fucking smirk off his face with his bare hands. He imagined grabbing that lightning with his own fingers and shoving it back down the magician's throat.
And suddenly something shifted. A heat bloomed deep inside his chest like the first breath of fire in a forge, and for a second, the air around his fingers shimmered. Something unseen twisted and coiled, like smoke in water. There was no crack of thunder, no burst of flame just a ripple of pressure targeting the sphere of electricity.
Zholdin's eyes widened, then narrowed. He felt it. He didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it was real.
He laughed. It wasn’t joyous, but it was something triumphant and savage. His fingers clenched like they could rip the feeling from the air and crush it into something usable.
((He channeled something to disperse the electricity))
There is nothing false in the words of demons