Francis ground his teeth together in annoyance, but on that front, he could not deny that Dominus was right. It was a zone he'd neglected. The power of the magic. He puzzled on it, his calmer, more calculating self taking over for a while, as his madness still continued to rave on the surface.
He'd never attempted to increase the strength of his magic, other than increasing the size, and the speed, what did it even mean to make it stronger? What did a stronger spell look like? What was more suited to combat?
Speed… That definitely seemed an area of improvement. More important than size.
He brought up his hands again, and attempted to form swords. They came out half-formed – he could not manipulate the steel as he'd wanted to. He had no understanding of the structure of it. It tainted his magic. The best he was able to do was form iron spikes – steel swords were beyond him.
