Wicked

Leonel and Aina entered the Inbetween World and shot off in two different directions, Aina moving in a blur of black lightning and Leonel gliding like a silvery bronze streak through the air. 

… 

"Control yourselves!" A voice barked. 

Compared to the Nomads who were usually quite tall, lanky and willowy, this man was a tank. He wore nothing but a pair of loose linen pants along with the loose wrapping around his forehead and head, only leaving space for the Ethereal Glabella that shone through. 

His two extra pairs of floating hands clamped around his thick forearms as he crossed his arms. His roar was capable of ripping out the souls of the soldiers trembling with agitation before him. 

The disdain in his fiery gaze was thick. Seeing his mighty Nomad Race react like this in the face of almost certain death filled him with disgust.