"Not bad," he admitted, voice grudgingly respectful, "for a reckless outsider."
Mikhailis wiped sweat from his brow, forcing a grin. "If we're trading complints, you're quite the show-off yourself." Inside, fear gnawed at him. He couldn't keep this up forever. A direct confrontation with an equal or stronger manipulator of the mist was suicide, especially with the brand's draining effect hovering like a vulture.
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