Page 3403-- CCLXXXVI.

Chapter Two Hundred Eighty-Six: ‘Mind of heaven, Mind of hell...’
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It was mayhem. A torrent enveloped Zeff--a product of his own materialization and yet still almost involuntary. His rage was so complete and so blinding that he felt almost possessed. Moving without thinking. A mobile storm of water.

He went straight for Gohvis, sending a flurry of attacks ahead of him. Water drills. Spikes of ice. Blinding steam. Sudden platforms beneath the Monster’s feet. And more that he didn’t even have the awareness to articulate.

Everything. He just sent everything.

But it wasn’t working. He could already tell. The drill hit ineffectually. The spikes bounced right off. The steam dissipated into nothing. Even the simple platforms of ice refused to materialize. Only harmless splashes of water appeared, wetting the ground around the dragon man’s feet, instead.

Not that Zeff was terribly surprised by any of this.

Despite everything, the Lord Elroy still had enough awareness to know who he was up against. To know that this was certain to be a fruitless endeavor.

He simply couldn’t control himself.

He went in with the Drillburst, aiming right at Gohvis’ center of mass.

The Monster caught his fist and stopped him cold. And those impossibly red eyes found him, staring straight into his own. “Calm yourself, Water Dragon. You need not die, this day.”

Zeff tried to pull his hand away, but it was stuck fast in the Monster’s grip. He growled in frustration, trying to materialize more, but only sputters of water appeared around him, not at all as he intended.

“Return my daughter!” he yelled.

“In time,” said Gohvis.

“Return her, Monster! Do not--!” The huge hand let him go, only to find his face instead, killing the words in his mouth. Truthfully, Zeff hadn’t even known what he was going to say next. Incensed yelling was the only thing that came to mind.

“Calm yourself,” said the Monster again, this time with a weight behind it.

A weight that, even in his current state, Zeff found somehow difficult to ignore. The words cut through the blind rage in his mind, not destroying it totally but still making a clear impression.

Zeff’s flailing arms slowed, and he felt abruptly more in control of himself.

And the huge hand released him.

Zeff found his feet, blinking. He stood there, before the Monster of the East, still ready to attack again but at least no longer feeling the immediate, unignorable impulse to do so.