Owen's hands were swirling with arcanergy, oddly displacing the surrounding seawater and creating a space devoid of water.
This was not magic, merely a manipulation of arcanergy.
Standing in this waterless space, Owen held the seahorse race leader by the neck and said: "Take me to the neptune race's strongmen, and I will spare your life."
The seahorse race leader made squeaking and whining noises.
"You don't speak the common language?" Owen frowned, his expression darkening.
He hadn't anticipated his plan hitting a snag right at the outset.
Was he really going to have to fight his way into the sea race's encirclement?
He lacked that confidence.
The seahorse race leader twisted its body more frantically, continuously emitting sounds: "Squeak squeak yah yah jee jee---"
Owen felt a surge of annoyance: "Sea race is truly foolish, not even teaching them the common language."
