As they pressed onward up the spiraling tower, its narrow halls slick with the ichor of their foes, Calien and Erik moved like practiced dancers.
The humanoid twin-tentacle octopuses—despite their grotesque strength and slippery grace—never stood a chance against the two students.
Every attack was measured, every counterstrike perfectly timed.
And Varros could do nothing but admire them, hands clasped behind his back as he followed at a deliberate pace.
His dark gaze tracked every movement, the way Calien pivoted at the perfect moment so the lashing tentacles would brush harmlessly past him before his knives flew in a gleaming silver arc.
Erik was just as efficient.
With every thrust of his arm, his blades buried into a target's most vulnerable spots with a precision that would make even veteran warriors proud.
Chief Varros had witnessed the skill of many knights and adventurers in his long years commanding the Mana Knights of Black Vale.
