Michael's mana continued disappearing. For the first time since the possession began, he started feeling a strain. His mana pathways were carrying an amount of energy far beyond what they normally handled.
Fortunately, the ghost's spiritual properties were reinforcing him from within. Without Divine Incarnation Possession, Michael suspected his body would already be screaming.
Seventy percent.
The Ice Wheel accelerated.
KRRRRRRRRR…
The concentric rings spun faster. The entire frozen region began feeding the spell.
Michael's silver hair whipped violently around him. His robes, reinforced with his mana, snapped against the wind.
The spear shrank again.
Three metres.
Then two.
At this point, it looked almost elegant. A narrow silver-white lance floated above Michael's palm.
Beautiful and terrifying.
Michael swallowed.
"This thing…"
His instincts were warning him.
Eighty percent.
