Kapitel 1111: Rank Three

Tycondrius took a deep... steady... pain-wracked breath. 

It was growing increasingly difficult to both speak *and* retain his bearing. 

Despite the unprofessionalism, he leaned on Pale's spear to better distribute his weight. 

That boy... 

Pale was a gods-damned genius in combat-- just like his Blade Dancer father. 

⌈Limit Break⌋? Really? 

The boy had instinctively learned and activated something akin to the forbidden Skill, ⌈Soulburn⌋. However, he sacrificed the last of his Divine Power to do so-- effectively bypassing the severe physical and mental complications comorbid to isolating and *immolating* a soul. 

And then, ⌈Spiral Pierce⌋...

Tycon wasn't even familiar with that one. Pale developed it on his own. 

And it was wildly effective... despite the illogicality of its execution. 

Ridiculous. 

Utterly. Ridiculous.