[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/QFR2N0S.png[/img][/center] [center][@Reflection][/center][center][h1]Raging Blurred Line - Torrential Dye 2[/h1][/center] The boar’s rampaged tore at Roland’s hold at his mind. The battle raged between the spirits and the servant without any sign of the boar abating, while the horses found themselves exhausted unable to give any more after shielding a Roland who was put into dire straits with the boar overwhelming him. Ah, at this rate then it would not even be a matter of the boar taking over. Roland would surely perish, his mind and saint graph breaking down. Even if his song sang true, empowering him in response to his plight it was too risky to continue on at this rate. He needed support, enough support to ensure his victory. They could use a command seal, a miracle. Yet they would also be required for the battle beyond the boar. To lose it all by withholding too much, to find themselves lacking in tools when the true battle begins… He’d trust in Roland, and ask in turn that Roland trusted in him. A lacking master in some regards. It was no secret that Roland was held back to a degree due to the amount of energy he could provide, or rather the amount that he couldn’t. A master who was more martial artist than magus was not one that could support his servant very well. But in the teachings of his land’s shamanism the symptoms of the body were a reflection of one’s soul and spirit. To fix the spirit, and to fix the body. The amount of damage that Roland had taken was too much for him to quickly tend to, but he could at least bring him out of his dire straits. The mask fell from his hands as he devoted his attention to his Saber. “Roland, you’ll have to trust me and accept me.” The words that filled his head through their link were soft, a simple plight as the shaman reached out for his servant. The rotation of his circuits gave off a soothing and relaxing thrum, even as they spun to a high speed. It was not a matter of simply injecting magical energy into Roland, but rather observing and healing his spirit. Welcomed in such a way. Being allowed to stabilizing, understand and work upon his mind, it was a necessity then to entrust the shaman in a way that left one bare to him. To focus on the boar while his master held him together. It was no grand blessing at play. But the saber would find himself revitalized and healed nonetheless, his master working to support him directly in such a manner even as their clash continued. As long as Roland was still standing then there was the possibility of victory. The proud Song of a Paladin that continued to bring him growth as he struggled against his foe. He was not a hero that necessarily won with a single masterful stroke, but he was a hero who would not fall, who could slowly eck out a victory against even the greatest of foes. So stand up again brave paladin, conquer that foe.