Azhar slinked back into his charging stance, his body low and his feet extended behind him, the tips of his feet digging into the dirt, channeling as much energy as they could. He took in a breath, every little muscle sculpted on his body clenching with the exertion. Magical energy surged from him, around him, manifesting as an angry red aura.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, pattering on the grass.
Li knew spirit shamanism was extremely hard to maintain. The magic, whether it focused on summoning spirit creatures or empowering the body, focused on toggled abilities, and those drained mana by the second at an astonishing rate.
The tax on Azhar's body was evident, and he wondered whether the hinterlander could maintain his relentless assault before he tired.
