The fight was moments away from breaking out.
Spiritual energy crackled through the air uncontrollably as the Eastern girl's hand began to glow a faint metallic gold and reached toward the blade strapped to her side, her face a mask of intense hatred.
The Holy Son, still maddeningly calm, opened his arms as though to ready receive her strike—no, her faith. His golden aura shimmered, not in defense, but as if inviting judgment.
But then—
Ding.
The sound was so out of place, so simple, that for an instant it felt like a hallucination to Kain and the others.
Then came the voice.
[Second Trial Commencing. All participants prepare for transport]
A thin line of silver light lanced down from the air above them, drawing a perfect ring around every participant.
