The ocean stretched endlessly beneath Lassim, a vast expanse of restless, deep waters that glinted faintly under scattered flashes of lightning. Each step of his [Storm's Dance] propelled him forward in a burst of his fused mana, the swirling miniature storms under his boots leaving faint distortions in the air as they dissipated into the surrounding stillness.
Though the coastline of the Southern Continent had long since faded into the distance behind him, Lassim pressed onward with the same casual, unwavering rhythm. High above the churning waves, he moved like a ghost whose only signal of existence was the of bits of storm he left in his wake.
His senses extended outward, brushing against the elemental mana that permeated the Southern Sea. Water-aspected mana here felt alive, more concentrated than anywhere he'd traveled before, and carried an undertone of something... watching.
