The fight against the wolfbears was a bloody massacre. Instead of improving my strength and endurance, I was testing my power. The storm of arrows proved effective against the earth templar, but I wanted to test its limits against a more numerous opponent. I had to rely on my dome for cover as I worked through the arrow storm. With safety guaranteed, I reshaped the arrows into circular blades with jagged, razor-sharp edges. I practiced controlling a blade, learning how to attack without losing it.

It was a delicate process, and I found the technique of just connecting to my blade needed improvement. The control I had over it was rudimentary and singular. I could only connect to one blade, and movement was limited to up, down, back, and forward. If my saw hit anything, my connection was lost and needed to be reestablished if I still wanted control.

I had to maintain focus on my blade and actively open and shut my dome so that the blades could exit and enter. Fortunately, only a thought was needed to control my shell. This was only possible because I was a templar and could connect to external water mana.

As I practiced, hundreds of wolfbears tore into my shell. Their clawing pierced their high-pitched laughter, which became too much to bear. I threw handfuls of flashbangs into the dense pack, creating a layer of frozen beasts. The laughter was barely stifled, but the clawing had stopped.

With my focus renewed, I began working on my razors once more. After several attempts, I'd gotten to the point where I could maintain a connection through contact. I was still limited to one blade. After trying different techniques, I learned that using my aura to handle the control made a significant difference.

Oddly, my aura acted like a second hand. No, it was tendrils. I had strings of connection wherever my aura existed. The tighter I kept my aura, the more influence my tendrils had. The concept took a lot of work to maintain. It was one thing knowing water surrounded me. It was another to believe that the water around me could be strong enough to move objects.

The lack of belief worked against me. Mana manipulation required a solid will; there wasn't room for doubt regarding commanding energy. I hammered away at my doubts as I stood in my shell and practiced with my aura. Even though over a thousand spirit beasts surrounded me, I focused on the ice razor before me. My secondary task had become my primary task. I didn't feel shame for the distraction. The practice was necessary to develop my talents as a templar. Distractions were important.

I condensed my aura to only a few feet around me. I could see through it clearly, yet it felt like standing in a thick rain cloud. Inside the tight aura, I formed balls of ice until I had a dozen floating before me. I pressed down on the beads and felt a bit of resistance. It was still too weak.

I cut back to a single ball and wrapped all the surrounding tendrils around it. When I pushed down, it took the weight of my hand to move it. I was making progress. I spun more strings of water mana around the orb. This time, it took a heavier push to move the ball down.

All excitement of my progress dashed to pieces when I tried to move the ball without touching it. My ball of ice was firmly tied to its position.

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Rope… Sweet abyss. All I needed was rope; the answer had dangled in front of me this entire time.

I left my ball hanging as I summoned a new razor, anchored it to my right hand, and then connected it to my left hand. For the next hour, I practiced whipping and recalling my razor. From the outside, it probably looked like I was dancing. Inside, I felt like I was breaking through tremendous barriers. I lost track of time as I danced with my connected razor. The motions became natural. Each movement flowed into the next. When I felt comfortable, I added another razor.

By the time I finished, I had seven razors roped to me. It took immense focus and will to keep my razors active, but it wasn't enough to connect them to my left hand and anchor them to my right. The feat required me to create seven separate anchors and connections. I used all of my fingers, my arms, and legs. The dance got much more complicated, and I probably looked like a freak show. However, with Lana's musical talents, we could probably create an elegant battle. My will hardened as I honed my skill to the song Goldi only sang for me.

I stepped past my floating ball that had been chiseled away by razors and out of my dome. The immediate ground was a bit wet from the melting beasts. The ones on the outskirts had already been devoured. I sent out my blades and whipped them around as I walked deeper into the den. The thick fur of the wolfbears carved away under my storming razors.

The dance of frozen ice was in full force, cutting and slicing. When one blade was destroyed, another was summoned. Beasts that once were confident and overjoyed at the chance for feasting fled from my aura of razors and blood.

"Kain—Kip…" Tent's words blurred into another note to the chaotic symphony of our masquerade.

As beasts fled, I expanded my aura to the extent of my reach. When that wasn't far enough, I added Snowpiercer to the mix. There was no escaping my murderous wrath.

When the den had been cleared, I stepped into the jungle and started a new bloody song. No tree stood at the end. Swamps flooded with death, and corpses laid everywhere. Not even the devouring tunnel could be recognized. I was a terror blood cults would fear.

My thorough cleansing of the jungle was not just a practice ground for my budding skill. It was a punching bag for all I didn't want to feel. To be soft was too hard. To care was too hard. Only one thing mattered. Saving my friends. All else could be damned.

A tongue clicked in the back of my mind. I gave it no more attention. Calypso would be dealt with when I was ready. There was still much to be destroyed.

A small opening was located in the southwest corner of the room, covered by thick jungle overgrowth. I'd cut through the jungle before but had never noticed this peculiar spot. A rat beast could walk through the tunnel on its hind feet if it ducked. My broad build would keep me from squeezing through.

I increased the mass of my razors and chipped away at my new target, gaining inches in hours. My focus burned, and my channels strained under the constant attacks. I was nearing my limits. Not bad, considering the hours of fighting I'd been through. Most of which I didn't even have a weapon… or rather, I was the weapon.

Razor whips were just the surface. Eventually, I could develop the skill further and use it to master my aura and domain. Until then, I'd cut away all that stood before me. It'd been a while since I fought the rat pack. My old nemesis learned to fear me long before I became a templar. However, not a single rat, alive or dead, stepped into the jungle today. They'd been hiding, and it was time to find out what they were doing in their secret lair.

I pushed away the temptation to rest and clawed my way forward. Every inch closer, a deep, hungry energy reached for me.