Several miles away from Lochras, Silas floated mid-air, his aura expanding into every inch and crevis of the world around, him as if his mana alone was capable of warping reality to the naked eye.
His once rampaging blood lust had quietened down under Silas' control. There was no feeling of terror and grief when one looked at him, nor was there an everpresent sense of dread that crushed the souls of everything that stood before him. After all, to the naked that could not resist his blood lust, he no longer looked like a multi-armed wretched monster covered in eyes. No…
Now, his figure was like a specter, both present and untouchable, an enigma that defied the natural laws. He was suspended in the air as if gravity dared not assert its claim upon him. His white hair, now a halo in the dimming light, gave him an otherworldly appearance, a seraph of destruction watching the quietus of the day.