Theron's expression became deathly calm, everything slowing around him. He didn't have much stamina left mentally; he felt that he had truly squeezed himself dry just to get to this point.
But as far as he was concerned, this wasn't nearly as intensive as battle. He began rifling through his memories, trying to find something analogous to this inner armor.
What did he know?
He knew that it was heavy. He knew that it had pricked him several times, seemingly sampling his blood. He knew that it didn't have any obvious runes or patterns on it, and yet it was moving as though it were some sort of living entity. He also knew—or rather speculated—that Vellan hadn't been able to take it off, to the point that he had to layer another inner armor on top of it just to give it some use aside from its durability and heft.
Theron's eyes flashed.
