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Zeff had gone on to lecture him about the importance of being able to intelligently evaluate one's opponent and determine whether victory or escape was the appropriate course of action. Which had been a very wise and important thing to bring up, of course.

If Zeff were able to read Hector's thoughts right now, the man probably would've been very disappointed in him.

Because escape wasn't even a consideration.

This was Warrenhold. It wasn't a place that you needed to escape from. It was a place you could escape to.

And there were dozens of non-combatants down there. They needed to be protected.

And right now, the so-called Lord Darksteel needed to come through for them.

In his mind, none of these thoughts were fully formed or articulated. They were just gut feelings at best, underlining every racing thought that passed through his head as he narrowly dodged or blocked every devastating blow from Banda Toro.

Hector knew that he needed to come up with something. And this aura shit was so overwhelming. As the fight drew out, he could feel it all the more intensely. In his mind. In his body. Everywhere.

Consuming everything around him. A suffocating and invigorating blanket.

It was a contradiction unto itself. Like struggling ferociously against an angry sea, yet also being able to breathe the very waters of that same sea, taking strength from the crashing waves even as they tried to batter him into pieces.

And in a different way, it was also familiar. When he'd talked to Rasalased and when he'd gone into the Candle--those experiences were both similar to this, albeit not entirely.

This felt more like a blend of those times with how he normally felt.

Like things were only half real, right now. Like reality itself was questionable but still present. Asleep and awake at the same time.

And Hector searched.

He didn't know for what. A solution to all his problems? Or to just this fight? For something helpful, at least.

There was definitely something here. In the middle of this fury. This storm. He could sense so many fleeting things. There was a fireworks show beneath everything else. A storm beneath the storm. It was there.

He just couldn't. Quite. Touch it.

But maybe he could see it. Just. Barely. In a way.

Banda's intent was part of it. The man's aura wasn't trying to hide that at all. If anything, it was like it wanted to be seen. To be acknowledged.

To be challenged. Yes, of course it did.