Into the Cold

Lassim's breath caught in his throat as Mercy's malevolent aura pinned him with an unbearable spiritual pressure. 

Mercy's shadow seemed to swell, stretching and twisting as he prepared to subdue Lassim completely. His eyes glinted with dark excitement.

"You stand at a precipice, Harbinger," Mercy's voice boomed, echoing around the cliff's edge. "Not just the edge of this cliff, but the brink of a new existence! Join the Dragal, and ascend beyond your wildest imaginings."

As Mercy traced the tip of his blade down Lassim's body from his neck, his miséricorde swirling with void energy, Lassim's mind raced. 

He knew a direct confrontation would be futile against a warrior so close to the Spirit Ascension stage. Instead, he needed to create a diversion, find a moment's weakness to exploit and escape somehow. He really needed a miracle.