In the early hours of the morning, a man kept swinging his wooden axe while moving about like he was fighting actual opponents.
It was still foggy, and the sky was dark, but Cristian could see clearly. He felt the cold sensation of mana coursing through his pathways while swinging his axe to match its movement.
His muscles bulged with power as each movement, although slow, was strong enough to break a human skull.
His boot dug into the soil while sweat streamed down his bare torso to his pants.
Throwing the wooden axe into the distance, he sent darkness from his palms after it. Mid-air, the smoke turned into chains, emitting black and purple smoke.
It wrapped around the axe's handle and he retrieved the axe, then slashed upward, launching an arc of decay toward the sky.
'Not sharp enough!'
Flicking through the fields while swinging his weapon, Cristian kept pointing out his weak points, which were mainly from his elements.
