Grimm sighed as he thrust his spear forward several times in a powerful motion.
Mana coated the metal in glowing layers, and each jab sent small wisps of energy shooting forward.
He exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip and trying to tighten the angle of his wrists.
"I think your form is great," Raven commented from where he stood with his arms folded, observing like a quiet instructor. "Though it wouldn't kill you to flow a bit more like water."
Grimm raised an eyebrow, and Matthias, who had been nearby lying on a crate lifted his head with the same expression.
Raven was a fire mage. Hearing him preach about flowing like water felt like a joke.
"Quit reminding me that we're in the middle of a floor that has literal blood as the ocean," Cyrus groaned as he lay flat on the wooden ground beside them.
His arms sprawled out and his eyes staring hopelessly at the sky beyond the barricade. "I should have called in sick. I swear I should have called in sick."
