The rain came down heavier, turning the battlefield into a slurry of blood and molten earth. Every step Cain took sent arcs of steam curling around his boots as the ground itself hissed under the heat of his mana-burned body. Nebula floated above the fractured plain, hundreds of blades circling him like a crown of thorns. Their edges sang with vibrating power, each one pulsing faintly in rhythm with the storm.
Cain's arm bled freely, but the pain had long stopped registering. His eyes locked on Nebula's every twitch, calculating distance, speed, potential vectors of attack. The bastard didn't need to move much anymore; his control was so precise that the blades themselves fought the battle for him.
Cain raised {Eidwyrm}. The metal along its edge rippled, gold shifting into a dull crimson as his ki surged through it. The air around him shimmered violently, distorting in waves.
Nebula laughed. "You're slowing down already, Cain. How disappointing."
