He stared in disbelief.
A light construct was something only possible, wielded by one person—the Union president.
That was Galisk's EX-ranked talent.
Aiku staggered, his body still rattled from the impact, eyes locked on Alister in disbelief.
"This doesn't make any sense… None of this makes any sense," he muttered, half to himself, half to the broken battlefield.
Then—in a blink—Alister vanished from where he stood.
A sharp crack echoed through the air, and before Aiku could even react, a presence like a mountain's weight pressed down beside him.
He flinched violently.
Alister was there.
Standing right beside him.
The shift in space was so sudden, so precise, that Aiku's already wounded balance gave out—he stumbled backward, collapsing to one knee with a grunt.
Golden wisps of mana coiled lazily around Alister's frame as he looked down on Aiku, eyes still unreadable… but there was something new in them now.
Not rage.
Not smugness.
Judgment.
