Emre was plunged into a state of shock and absurdity, a feeling akin to watching someone about to walk straight into a ditch. You scream desperately, "Turn around, turn around, quickly turn around!" only for them to take their head off and throw it away instead.
Originally, he believed that with the group damage sharing of the Holy Spirit, he should be invincible. Because of this, he had not taken the Little Angel seriously. Something akin to a Combat Retainer of the Lord of Light posed no threat to him. He even kindly encouraged the opponent to go home.
A rather ordinary Light Feather, a seemingly simple lock of gaze, yet it made Emre feel absurdity. This relentless torrent of damage came crashing down like a torrential rain—impossible to evade, absurd to the extreme. Even the activation of the group damage sharing could do nothing to stop it. The enemy's Light Feathers simply wouldn't stop.
No words were exchanged—he ran.
