Varen smiled faintly through the fog. "Good instincts."
Then the ground shimmered.
Water pooled beneath my feet thin at first, then thickening, slick and cold.
He lifted a hand, and the mist coalesced into thin, gleaming streams that whipped toward me like ribbons.
I ducked under one, parried the next, and sliced through a third but every time I cut, the streams reformed.
'Control level… absurd!'
I surged forward, breaking through the mist, aiming to close the distance.
But he was gone again.
Behind me, water shifted, a warning too late.
A sharp impact struck my back, knocking me forward. I rolled, catching myself on one knee, sword raised.
Varen stood several paces away, sword still sheathed.
He hadn't even drawn it.
"You rely on pressure," he said mildly. "But pressure means little when it meets the ocean."
I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. "Then I'll carve a path through it."
My mana surged. Flames cracked faintly around my sword, a soft, dangerous hum.
