The air was solemn.
Damon felt the world slow down—not because of a skill, but the cold realization that he was the target of a sniper. Worse, he couldn't move.
'This is going to be a long twenty seconds.'
He sent his shadow toward the direction of the building. It would deal with the aftermath.
Damon needed to bulk up his defense.
He activated the Sovereign Mantle form of the Armor of the Pale Crown.
In an instant, the regal ashen armor shifted—its form thickening, becoming heavier. He was encased in dull, grey metal. He could feel the soul core of the armor vibrating. His face was covered by a faceless helm, yet somehow… he could still see. It was as if he were peering through shadows.
The crown on his head rose, hovering above him. It twisted, adding more coils to its form, and floated behind him like a dark, ominous halo.
He took a deep breath… raised his bow… and knocked an arrow.
