Michael studied the two beasts carefully, his expression unchanged.
The smaller one moved smoothly, its body shifting like water. The fins along its spine moved constantly, and mist spread around it. Its scales darkened near the spine and lightened toward the underbelly. The mist it produced spread low across the ground.
Its eyes were pale, almost colorless.
The beast held itself alert. It watched everything, including him.
Then there was the second beast.
It was massive.
Twice the height of a grown man at the shoulder, with limbs as thick as tree trunks. Stone-like plates covered its body, each piece interlocking with the next. The plates were rough and weathered.
Its horns curved back from its skull, and its eyes were deep amber. They sat beneath a heavy brow.
Aeloria stood between them, calm, one hand resting at her side.
"These two will suffice," she said evenly.
Aeloria's gaze moved briefly to each beast in turn.
"The smaller one is of the Tideveil lineage," she said calmly. "A water-aspected race known for control, adaptability, and endurance." As if in response, the mist around the creature thickened slightly, clinging to the ground like a shallow tide. The beast remained still, its fins wavering, its body relaxed but alert.
"They mature slowly," Aeloria continued, her tone even. "But their upper limits are high. Given ti and proper guidance, a Tideveil can step beyond my realm without difficulty."
Her eyes shifted to the towering beast behind her.
"This one is a Stonebound Colossus," she said. "A strength-oriented race. Their bodies grow denser as they advance, and their foundation is naturally stable. Once fully matured, few races can match them head-on."
She looked back at Michael then, her expression composed.
"Both races possess the capacity to reach higher than I have," she said simply.
Michael did not respond.
'Is she trying to show off, or is this normal here?'
He was confused and did not know which it was.
If it was the forr, he would admit that the two creatures did not look ordinary, but he did not think they were more than that.
Was ascending to Rank Four really so difficult?
Of course it was. The fact that these two could still rely on their racial potential ant they were already at the peak of an extraordinary race, or perhaps even an epic-grade creature. Michael did not use Detect since they would sense it. He could use his Eye of Truth, but he was not proficient enough to determine racial rank at a glance. In any case, he knew that ascending to Rank Four was not a small matter. He himself was not even at that level yet, so it was not sothing he could dismiss lightly. As for his undead, was ascending to that rank actually difficult for them?
Maybe it would take them so ti to reach the peak of Rank Three through accumulation from their law cultivation. But after reaching that point, he could simply rge other materials into them or evolve them directly, and they would ascend.
Michael felt that the last thing one could use to show off to him was racial potential.
And if this was simply normal here, a way of stating one's assets without deeper aning, then he was not sure what response was
expected of him.
In the end, he chose to ignore it.
Michael glanced around the field.
"Are we doing this here?" he asked calmly.
Aeloria did not answer imdiately. Her eyes swept across the
surrounding elves, the instructors, and the open space beyond them. She did not give an order, nor did she raise her voice.
She did not need to.
One of the instructors reacted imdiately.
"Clear the area," he said sharply.
The response was instant. Elves began moving without argunt,
stepping back in practiced coordination.
Within monts, the space opened.
Grey grass lay flattened where people had stood only seconds earlier. The ground was wide, unobstructed, and silent.
Michael and Aeloria remained at the center.
Spartan and Ghost stood behind Michael, unmoving.
The Tideveil rested low to the ground, mist drifting around its body. The Stonebound Colossus planted its feet, its weight settling into the
earth.
When the last elf stepped clear, the field felt vast.
Aeloria returned her gaze to Michael.
"This will suffice," she said evenly.
Michael nodded.
"I'm ready," he said.
Aeloria's expression did not change. She simply lifted her hand
slightly, as if granting permission.
"Then you should take the first move," she replied.
Michael did not waste ti.
His eyes sharpened, and the mont his intent solidified, the space
around him seed to twitch.
Then he vanished.
For a heartbeat, the center of the field held only Spartan and Ghost,
still as statues. The Tideveil's mist drifted lazily. The Stonebound Colossus did not even shift its weight. Aeloria remained where she
was, posture relaxed, gaze forward.
And then Michael reappeared. Hundreds of ters behind her.
He hit the grey grass hard, shoulder first, then rolled, then bounced,
then rolled again. Each impact dug shallow grooves into the dull
earth, sending up thin sprays of pale soil.
It was a ragdoll, violent and ugly, his limbs pulled by montum he
could not stop.
Michael tried to brace, but his body did not listen in ti.
He rolled again, scraping through the grass.
Only after several rotations did the motion finally begin to die.
He slid another few ters, spinning once more on his side, then dragged to a halt, leaving a ssy trail behind him.
For a brief second, he stayed where he was, palm pressed to the ground, chest rising and falling.
"Damn. What kind of law almost kills its owner?"
Since he considered himself the weaker party, and since the other
side was clearly strong, at least no weaker than the peak of Rank Three, Michael decided to go all out to even the field.
The only way this was possible, while still maintaining an advantage,
was to use his Law of Echoed Existence.
This law allowed him to copy almost anything his undead possessed, or anything connected to him, extending even to their laws.
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