7-51. Master
Elijah let Shape of Thorn fall away, and he stood statue-still in the center of the circle. Even the blood – of which there was quite a lot – had disappeared, leaving the tiles entirely pristine.
The old man stepped into the circle.
When he was ten feet away, he stopped and studied Elijah. His eyes settled on the Feral Spire, and he nodded. A second later, an unadorned quarterstaff appeared in his hands. It was as long as the old man was tall, which Elijah put at a little more than five and a half feet. In that respect, Elijah and his foe were almost identical, though he knew that he was a bit heavier than the old man.
“What is your name?”
“Elijah Hart. You?”
“I have no name. I gave it up to join my order.”
Elijah wasn’t certain if that had any basis in reality or if the system had simply chosen an easy excuse for it not to come up with a backstory. Whatever the case, it supported the air of mystery hanging over the shrine as well as its occupants.
While Elijah pondered that, the old man asked, “Are you sufficiently prepared?”
Elijah cocked his head to the side, then said, “One moment.”
Then, he activated Shape of the Master. The transformation took a little more than a second, but it came with a disorienting shift in perspective. When it was complete, he found himself looking up at the old man. Elijah rolled his narrow shoulders, then tightened his grip on the Feral Spire.
“I’m ready,” he spoke, somewhat surprised at how deep his voice had become. It crackled like a campfire with every word, and tendrils of smoke drifted up from the corners of his wide mouth.
The old man bowed, and Elijah felt compelled to do the same. A heartbeat after they’d both completed the respectful gesture, the old master sprang forward. He moved so quickly that Elijah knew that if his reaction speeds hadn’t been so enhanced – by his current form, the Sash of the Whirlwind, and Lupine Reflexes – he never would’ve even seen the staff screaming toward his head.
As it was, he managed to throw his own staff up in a block.
However, what he had not expected was for that speed to translate into power. The Feral Spire was knocked aside, and Elijah skidded sideways across the smooth tile. He let himself tuck into a roll that dissipated his momentum before he leaped to his feet, ready for a follow-up attack.
None came.
The old man remained in place, looking slightly perplexed that his attack hadn’t landed. His staff – which looked to be a mundane piece of cylindrical wood – arced with blue-and-white energy.
“You are more than you appear, shapeshifter,” the master stated.
“As are you,” Elijah countered, his voice crackling. With the block, Evasion had failed to activate, which meant that Heart of Fire had not ignited. He recalled the spell’s description:
| Evasion
| Each dodged attack builds a charge of Heart of Fire.
|