Kyle stood silently as the Saintess collapsed, her divine aura flickering like the dying embers of a once-raging fire.
He didn't move immediately.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes, observing the residual energy lingering in her body.
Her consciousness had faded, and her strength was gone, but the divine mana she wielded—unrefined and invasive—still clung to her like a disease, seeping into the earth with every passing second.
If left alone, it would taint the land, corrupting the mana veins and rendering the entire forest sterile.
Kyle clicked his tongue.
"Of course, you wouldn't go down cleanly."
He muttered.
With a sigh, he stepped forward, grabbed the unconscious Saintess by the arm, and hoisted her effortlessly onto his shoulder.
She was light. Too light.
Her body had already started to crumble from the overload of divinity, and Kyle didn't doubt that she had only hours—if not minutes—left unless he suppressed the destructive mana tearing through her form.
