The crowd went silent.
In the centre of the arena, the giant Toran fell to his knees.
He didn't fall because he was hit.
He fell because his legs just stopped working.
"For nothing..." Toran whispered. His voice was deep and broken. "Five years... for nothing."
Zane stood over him.
He felt the shift in the air.
The blinding White aura of Endurance—the thing that made Toran unbreakable—cracked.
Underneath, the Blue light of Despair poured out.
It was thick and heavy and it tasted like old iron and wasted time.
[...I failed them... I just made it worse...]
It was the third Prime Soul.
Zane didn't waste time.
He put his hand on Toran's shoulder.
"The fight is over, big man," Zane said softly. "You can rest now."
Toran looked up.
His eyes were wet. "Save them," he begged.
