Scyler sat in his cell, unconscious and drained of energy. The elixir that his enemy, Jelkin, had given him didn't do much to appease the hunger of the spell that drained his mana. He lay in the cell, his breathing shallow and laboured. Sweat poured from his brow as a fever set in, causing him to moan and writhe in misery, even being unconscious. In his mind, the battle between the angel and the reaper raged on. Just when it seemed like one would win, the other would even it out or even take the advantage. Scyler was kept on his edge, never once tearing his eyes from the battle. Then, the angel struck a hard blow against the reaper, disarming him and putting his blade at the reaper's throat. "You will leave now. I have won this poor soul his freedom from your clutches. Begone, reaper!" the angel shouted. The reaper laughed menacingly and erupted in purplish-black flames. The angel then turned to Scyler, putting his celestial hand on his shoulder. "Scyler, Holyja is not a spell to be cast so carelessly like that. Please be more careful with how you cast it. It nearly claimed your life this time. Stay with your usual magic, Scyler, but don't overdo it. Rest well, Scyler. I'll see you safely get out of this place." The angel then disappeared in a flash of light and a shower of feathers. In reality, a soft layer of feathers covered his body. "Thank you, my guardian... Thank you...", Scyler thought in his sleep. He now rested comfortably, sleeping away the fatigue from his battle.