His surroundings still crushed him with unbearable force. There was nothing he could do to escape the horrific situation.
Northern fell silent for a moment. His teeth clenched tight as he fought to resist. He thought for a bit—maybe the problem was that he was trying too hard.
But when he tried to not try, he almost felt himself being hurled out of existence. His body was nearly vanishing.
Which immediately made him hold on again. Whatever spell Rughsbourgh had cast, it was devastating.
Pain lanced through every part of his body as more molten gold solidified and struck him with brutal speed. His body trembled but did not fall.
Through tooth and nail, he kept himself standing. Despite this, a pool of his blood was forming on the ground. Long golden javelins buried into his body at different angles, forming the monolith of a martyred hero.
