Kaisen crouched on the roof of a small house like a damn alley cat watching a mouse with a death wish. His eyes were glued to a little figure zipping around the battlefield like she was on crack.
Teleporting? Nah, just pure speed—faster than most of these idiots could blink. Bodies were piling up like a Black Friday sale, but even she was starting to show cracks.
She was old—like "I need a nap before I finish this fight" old. No amount of magical steroids was going to cover that.
Sure, she could've dipped into some ancient, sketchy black magic to keep herself young, but Nora was all about that natural life.
Age was just a number, right? Except when you're trying not to keel over in the middle of a battlefield.
Her gray hair and wrinkled skin were betraying her youthful spirit. She was like that mischievous granny who'd slip you a shot of whiskey at family dinners and then tell you not to tell your parents.