Jane certainly was out of options.
Anyone and everyone who saw his predicament would fall into that line of thought. Especially after Roland's thorough beat down.
Roland's exhibition of Transcendent abilities through his skills had quenched any flicker of Divine mana that threatened to spill out of Jane.
But more than that, Jane had thoroughly stripped himself of every ounce of it.
So now, what lay before him and death were the last few moments he had with Roland– alone.
A sigh escaped his trembling lips as he closed his eyes for a second.
Roland tilted his head at his movement. Pushing his blade further against his throat.
"No funny business." He stated.
The last thing he needed was Jane to suddenly pull a fast one on him. Especially after that whole battle scene.
He could still feel the bits of punches that landed squarely on him while he charged up the Elemental Balls.
'I haven't had one like that in years…'
His jaws clenched for a second. Amusement playing coy in his mind.
'All because of one of them. It's a good thing I killed the other…'
For a second, his mind reeled. Then snapped, a visceral sound of a finger flicking in his skull.
"Where's Darrell Silvan." His question came faster than his realization.
Another piece he needed to be sure of, immediately.
After all, there was no telling with these people.
The Great Family were unpredictable in the sense that their powers tended to evolve and grow under pressure.
Especially pressure through battle.
Meaning it wasn't far off to find one of them going berserk on the battlefield because of a new unlocked ability they never knew they possessed.
It was complimentary, but as he was on the opposite side of them. It was a threat.
Jane slowly opened his eyes. His gaze basked in the slow-burning golden energy that flickered out of existence within it.
He could feel the energy within him.
The slow build-up of Divine mana began to repair what it had broken down. Replenishing the empty basin, left agape by the absence of Divine mana.
It was a process he was used to.
After all, long training at the Temple was done in the past. Where he had to use his mana up and let it fill up once again. Only to repeat the process.
It was the task of degradation and rebirth– each making him stronger than before.
This occurred once again in this given moment.
However, whether or not he would live to enjoy the fruits of his increased strength once his energy had been refilled was a different matter.
"I asked a question." Roland's voice snapped him from a trance.
The trance that had pulled him into his body during his inspection.
He blinked for a moment. A slow, lazy smirk grew across his face as he looked up. Locking eyes with Roland.
Roland clicked his tongue and pushed the blade further. A thin line drawing horizontally, on Jane's neck.
It causes a sting that spreads through Jane's body from the subtle pain as fresh, crimson liquid pools down in trinkets.
"Oh, be calm, Roland. I'm completely wasted. Not an ounce of mana within me." He paused for a moment. His gaze drooped with amusement. "You seriously think I can strike back right now?"
A silence hung in the air.
Roland slowly took his statement into account. His brows furrowed slightly.
A sparse crease on his forehead.
'He's right. There's nothing he can do.' He thought. His mind slowly pulled himself to the moment.
His gaze hung onto Jane's for a second, then blinked as he shook his head.
"Alright. You have a point, but that doesn't answer the question." His tone dropped. A low, husky vibration that hummed with the vicious intent, wrapped tightly in his left arm. His only arm.
"Where is Darrell Silvan?"
Jane tilted his head for a moment. Then shrugged.
"I was healing him a moment ago with my Divine mana but you interfered with the process with your…." His memories flashed. The Silver light ignited in his head as he sighed, closing his eyes for a second. "....Explosion of power. Now, I've lost connection with the dome of Divine mana I used to heal him."
Roland's face twitched.
But something didn't sit well with him, and the nudging feeling in his chest didn't help to soothe that discomfort.
"You're telling me that you lost the Elven prince during the explosion?"
Jane shrugged. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I made myself clear, did I not? If I had a clue where he was, then I wouldn't be in this position now. Would I?"
Roland's expression shifted, yet again.
The subtle gnawing feeling grows with time.
He pressed his sword deeper, firmer. Nearly reaching his throat.
Jane gurgled. Crimson bubbles rushed to his mouth as they widened open.
Pain assaulted his nerves in protest to the foreign invasion of his neck.
Blood dripped down the corner of his lips, forming thick curds that dropped to the ground with a loud tick.
"You say elves don't die, but humans do." He said in a hushed tone. Hoarse. Cracked. Visibly enchanted with his raw fury. "Slicing your head clean off would do justice to any form of healing you are capable of doing."
Jane chuckled. Choking on his own blood as he coughed out loudly from the descent of scarlet moisture into his throat.
His gaze hardened as it peered into Roland's. Black. Unmoved. A mask of indifference etched visibly in every form of expression.
"You want to try? I'm the Divine Son, you retard. You think beheading me would kill me? Not even the Devils can win against the gods…" he stopped for a moment. Catching his breath. His voice comes in low whispers. A shivering tone to the coldness in his dull, golden eyes.
That brilliance that was once anchored there had evolved into something else. Something dark, outrageous. The absence of the god's presence in a vessel meant for the gods.
"...and you think you, a human, are capable of doing that."
He pressed his neck harder. The blade reached deeper. Just at the nick of his oesophagus.
"Try it. You bastard."
An electric shutter ran down his bones as he instinctively pulled it back.
His eyes narrowed to a slit. Thoughts pooled into his mind in a frenzy.
It screamed out in his head. A voice of primal anger. A rush that surged through his body with adrenaline.
The second voice came in like a snowball. Cool and placating. Stifling out the burning anger with a loud hiss.
'Shut the fuck up and kill him! He's fucking bluffing!'
'Don't. You don't want to face the gods' judgement. Mayura may be on his side.'
'Fuck Mayura. Kill the bastard, you fool. We can not have another one of them running around! It will hinder our plans!'
'Hinder what plans? Forget plans! The gods wouldn't even bat an eye to require you dead!'
'Shut it and kill him!'
'Don't! For the sake of peace'
'Kill him!' 'Don't!' 'Kill him!' 'Don't' 'KILL HII—'
"Should I just help you decide, or are you going to keep standing there like an idiot?"
A voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to reel out of his mind with a muffled gasp. His head whipped in the direction of the voice– or what he assumed was the source of it.
He turned to Jane, his eyes flaring wide as their gazes locked at a point.
The golden-haired boy glanced back at him with a poker face expression. Blank, and motionless. His lips were still as the rest of him.
His brows furrowed. A slight crease on his forehead when a bolt of realization struck his scalp– an impact that nearly made him reel.
'It's not his voice.'
At that moment, a flicker of movement shifted from the corner of Jane's lips.
A smirk that grew into a wide grin.
Roland bit down on his lip as his body turned around in an instant. His great sword sliced through the air in the process.
His eyes bulged open in shock, lips parting out as a stifled statement escaped.
It closed as he shook his head slightly. Easing his shock down his system.
With a subtle glee on his face, he smiled.
"....Darrell…." He muttered slowly, biting down on his lips as a strange feeling crept up on him. One that he slowly identified.
A few meters away, amidst the dust of sooth and black mist that had begun to settle.
An Elf floated in an armour of intricate design.
Regality pulsed with the slight flicker of motion his armour made. Creeping around the hardened plates and shimmering silver surface with a tight sheen.
On his back were the five Dharma weapons. Charged. Bustling. A low, tune power that suffused out of them in the form of mana.
His silver hair floated with the motion of the wind and energy that suffused out of his body. A powerful, subtle beat, ongoing in his chest. Tightly locked, protected behind his ribcage.
His heart had been perfectly sewn to life. His pulse transported layers of blood and adrenaline down his system. While his mana circles twirled with a low rhythm, siphoning energy into his mana veins.
His expression was calm. Exuding Royal disinterest, while his gaze shifted between Roland and Jane.
His lips curled slightly.
"You look like shit." He said.
"Oh Shut it, you Elvin prick," Jane replied as he fell to the ground. His back slammed against the earth while golden energy suffused around his neck.
Slowly, the wound began to knit together.
"Well, I've done my part. Now it's your turn."
Roland's ears twitched ever so slightly.
He turned towards Jane with measured steps. A flicker of something dark ignited in his eyes.
They locked gazes into each other.
"Beat him already, would you? I'm sort of done with having to look at him."
Something sharp sliced the air from the get-go.
A blade that echoed with a metallic ring against the air in a tight slick.
Tension unfolded like the parted sea, and Roland was forced to turn his head in the direction of Darrell.
'Well, shit.' He thought to himself.
The Elvin Prince had risen from the dead. He had come for the blood of his executioner. And unfortunately, Roland was him.