Tave struggled to rise, every movement sending waves of burning pain through his limbs. The searing heat clung to his skin, the stench of scorched cloth and singed armor thick in the air.
He hated this.
Hated how powerless it made him feel. And still, the spirit looked at him with that cold, condescending stare, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance trying to bind her to a relic that wasn't even on her rank.
And yet, he'd prepared for this. He just hadn't expected the spirit to be a Unique-grade. That had thrown everything off.
Still, it meant he was lucky, incredibly lucky. But luck always demanded a price. And in this case, it came with risk and sacrifice.
If he wanted to bind her to his sword, he would have to earn it.
He stood tall again, straightening his spine. Ash clung to his armor, but he brushed it off with a sharp motion, eyes locked on the fire spirit.
