Several Wardens coming close to the arena dropped to their knees as the air grew thinner. Others began backing away as more people screamed.
There was no way to dissolve the skill when the user was unconscious.
The panic spread faster than the ability itself.
Killian forced himself upwards, holding his breath. His lungs burned but not as hot as his feet under the lightning trails his brother had left.
'This place must've felt like hell,' he glanced at Reginald. 'You really endured this.'
A small dim flame flared in his hand. He walked towards Reginald and the flame grew brighter, directing him on where oxygen flowed.
He stood there, his flame burning brightly, and took a deep breath.
Amidst the turmoil happening around, the arena was the quietest with coordinators passed out a few inches around the arena.
Killian exhaled, looking over Reginald's frame. There were new scars on his body and with his clothes torn, the old scars were visible.
