The battle ended swiftly after the mage's death. A few of the human seventh-level combatants tried to retreat, but Luke left us to pursue them. The difference between a seventh and eighth-level being was technically only a single level, yet the chasm between them was far greater than that between a first and sixth-level mage. When faced with such an insurmountable disparity, the remaining humans were slaughtered like cattle by the apostle.
As Luke departed to hunt down the last remnants of resistance, I sank to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. I gazed dully at the ice demon as it continued assimilating its newfound power, but the sight failed to capture my attention the way it had before. I ended up resting my chin on my knees, staring at nothing.
My heart was slow to calm, and every time my thoughts drifted to Luke, it fluttered anew. The adrenaline coursing through me since the start of the battle took its own toll, too, leaving my muscles trembling in exhaustion.
