Isril dashed and crouched, slamming his hands into the ground for his walls of ice to ascend. Unfortunately, those icy barriers could only survive one hit before shattering on the next attack.
Still, that was more than enough for Isril to move around without getting struck. Every once in a while he had to stretch his palm forward for bursts of icy mist to shoot forward, countering every bolt that came his way.
Needless to say, an interested expression arose on the professor's face, and all of a sudden his attacks vanished, even if a moment later his figure exploded with more radiance, and in turn more sparks.
The might of his orange bolts also increased, and Isril inhaled sharply when he realized that they reached the very peak of the third class!
Ever since the rise of inheritors in the early days of the entry; way before the classes of power existed, there had always been an issue with understanding the full measure of an individual's might.
