Gal-Enshu's flesh shrunk into itself as he assumed his human guise, still prostrated before Meilyr.
"Beautiful... my Lord," he declared in awe.
Meilyr lowered his gaze, noticing the dense flux of Mana swirling around his own body. His head was still hot from the ecstatic throbs of his epiphany, which he forcibly stifled in fear of the Vile Ichor finding an opportunity to corrupt him through it.
"This is an interesting discovery," he said, glancing at his shaking hand. "I was like an amateur throwing his sword around without technique. It must've been quite a laughable sight to the eyes of other magi. How much I have to learn..."
Alwina couldn't help snorting aloud. "Quite the contrary. It was obvious you weren't using proper spells, but that only made us warier. You could easily contend against 8th-class magi, as inefficient as your method was. To most, it merely looked like you were playing around."
