Side by side, they ran near the feet of the Lady of Cinder. The ground trembled with each of her steps, kicking up small clouds of gray dust that clung to their skin and clothes like a rough second layer.
Marco was faster than Mitsuki, so the latter had to propel himself a few times to keep up. Each burst left a slight distortion in the air, as if his body were slipping between two different planes of reality.
Meanwhile, Azel fired four more blood arrows. They whistled with a sharp, unnatural sound as they cut through the heavy air of the basement. He looked increasingly pale and exhausted; his breathing was uneven, and his hands trembled slightly as he drew the bowstring. This was why he always used blood arrows as a last resort.
On his side, Monar frowned. The demon behind him kept whispering nonsense, its voice seeping into his mind like a damp echo.
"Are you not afraid of forgetting everything, young elf?"
