The light slammed against the ground with overwhelming force, sending thin strands of radiance weaving through the roots of the shield that refused to yield to the sun's devastating power.
The protection shook violently, making the dark elf's hands tremble, yet he could only smile calmly.
With an elven whisper, Monar granted the light of his own mana—spreading through the surroundings with its faint green hue—to reinforce and grow more roots where the others had burned away. That way, the shield could hold as long as the attack lasted.
Azel was helping, carrying Marco while holding up one of the walls that looked like it might collapse at any moment.
'Our lives depend on a single combined attack…'
Pulling that off would be difficult. He didn't know the others deeply enough, and their synchronization in battle could easily falter. What happened earlier was proof of that.
Leaning his back and both hands against the branches, he closed his eyes to focus.
