Meteors of blue energy shoot through the forest, chasing down a small figure weaving through the trees and leaves with a lithe dexterity. Prose flies mockingly, twisting in the air and moving omnidirectionally the moment the blue comes near him.

His body is about the same size as the meteors, but in speed and maneuverability he is unmatched. Any time the blue comes nearer he deftly doges out of the way as they shoot past him.

Leaves fell, and the forest was eerily silent apart from the chase of the meteors. Prose nimbly slipped through branches, openings in tree’s, rock formations. He flew with absolute precision.

The meteors crashed against the ground and destroyed what they touched, and the tree’s as well were obliterated the moment the meteors made contact.

The source of the meteors was the mage Prose had blasted away. She held her staff with a deathly white grip, and mnemonic chanting came from her mouth.

At the tip of her wooden staff, a whirlpool of blue energy begins to form. It seems to suck in the air, and use it to fuel the speed of the whirlpool gathering.

Prose continues to fly, dodging the countless meteors. His eyes never left the mage, even as he danced through the air.

The meteor’s stop in the air, rotating slightly, and then exploding with a blinding light. The mage’s chanting instantly speeds up. Prose closes his eyes in pain, and tears flow in response to the intense stimuli.

The blue swirl comes to a point, and unleashes from her staff as a torrent stream of energy, shooting directly towards Prose.

The energy shoots forwards with intensity, threatening to completely envelop Prose who was blinded by the display of the meteors.

The moment the beam came close enough, Prose’s wings wrapped in front of him, and then unfurled the moment the beam hit them. Sparks of blue light dispersed, and the beam was no more.

It made quite a sight, Prose’s form revealing itself as his wings returned to their resting position on his back. The blue beam splintered off in small blue trails of light, accentuating the Fairies form in the forest.

The mage could only look in shock, the blinded fairy had not used a technique and was off guard. The blast was bigger than its body, and she even added a bit of her own lifeforce to the attack, but it was for nought. The fairy had dispelled any thought of triumph when his tender, soft wings destroyed one of her greatest techniques.

Prose opens his eyes, and the mage is struck by the vibrance of their red hue. A smile creeps up on his face, and he stands in the air, his hands resting at his sides.

“When fighting a fairy, aim for the entirety of their body. Destroy every last trace in one, take advantage of their small size and aim to obliterate them completely..” The words come out of his mouth mockingly, and a twisted laugh projects itself from his stomach. “Is that what you thought?” The smile on his face is genuine, there is no doubt. It was angry, it was triumphant, he hid not a single thing he was feeling.

Prose lifts his hands, and the mage instantly raises her guard, a thin aura of blue surrounding her body and staff. Her hand grips her staff tightly, and her mind races through every permutation of attack.

“I wonder, have you understood what I did to you before? Or, are you truly so stupid that you’d try to defend an attack you don’t understand?” Prose’s hand lifts forward, and he pushes out his palm towards the mage. Nothing happens, and a smile curls on the mage’s lip.

“An attack I don’t understand?” She says with contempt. “Don’t make me laugh, you shot a blast of compressed air and used its momentum to force me away.” The spell she was using now was not commonly taught, but it was widely sought out. It created a space around the body that made the user resistant to outside forces, and gave them an intermediate control over the hardness and strength of their body.

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This technique was originally meant to be used against other mages, but quickly became a one-size fits all technique for any aspiring sorcerers. To the spell users who relied on their control over the battlefield, it was a deterrent capable of denying their tricks and weakening their efficacy. To those who excelled in physical combat, it was a dangerous technique that allowed the normally feeble mages to counter attack with force unexpectant of them.

Moreover, the technique acts as an amplifier for the spells a mage uses.

Prose’s right finger curled towards his palm. “You really…”

The staff that the mage gripped with intensity underwent a shocking transformation in her hand. In an instant, the regal wood that had still seethed with life long after it was carved and removed from its source, was whittled away in an instant. Like a master carving wood, the staff was broken layer by layer until only a meager chip of wood was in the mage’s hand.

“Don’t understand a thing.” Prose finished his sentence, and before the mage could react to the destruction of her staff, the log of a tree slammed into her side. Although it did not send her flying due to the barrier, she was knocked down to the ground in a daze.

She couldn’t understand the suddenness of it, nor the method. Quickly breaking herself from her daze in extreme concern, she immediately turned her eyes back to the fairy, and a primal fear struck her. Her concepts of what could be, and what couldn’t be, were instantly shattered.

Around Prose, six uprooted tree logs floated around him. The roots of the trees marked the bottom, and dirt was still caked on. The tree’s floated vertically, with Prose seemingly being their center of orbit.

Suddenly the logs stilled in the air. Their bark was whittled away, the leaves shook off, the tops sharpened and the roots twisted and condensed on the bottoms. Quickly, the tree’s became six oversized spears, floating in the air.

They switched from their vertical orientation quickly, and now all pointed at the Mage with their sharpened tips.

“If you survive, it’d be quite impressive.” Prose spoke. Not a single part of his body moved with intention.

The mage thought of how every single word of the fairy was an insult.

The mage thought a lot of things, as the wooden spears shot towards her. The barrier around her expanded, and with a yell she pushed her hand forwards, and a screen of blue shot forwards. The moment the spears hit the screen they were shredded away.

Panting heavily, the mage took a moment to stare at Prose. HIs eyes were indifferent, and it filled her with rage. “Impressive, isn’t it!” She spoke with pride, having destroyed the fairies attack.

“No, not a bit.” And with those words from Prose, the mage felt a tiny puncture through her back. Moments before she shut her eyes forever, she tried to understand what had happened. And when she felt the same tiny prick at the front of her chest, she understood.

A rock, really no more the size of a common field mouse shot out of her chest. It flew through the air in front of Prose, and dropped to the ground unceremoniously.

A stray rock had sat behind her, and not for a moment had she taken notice of it. But for the fairy with control over his environment, it was a tool of destruction. He had destroyed her heart with the thing, with zero flare.

The tree made spears were never meant to hit her, only dispel the barrier she had around her. And when it was time to deliver his final blow, he did it in an impassioned, exact way. The stone destroyed her heart in an instant, and she had no response.

Prose’s words were the final thing she heard.

“May your soul pass in peace, unaware of the ignorance of the body that held it.”

He floated, looking down at his hands, making a mental note of his own abilities. It wasn’t unbelievably odd that he inherently understood his own abilities, but it frustrated him all the same. His memory was foggy and that fog was receding, taking all that existed in it with it. Prose wished to know his first step, breath, and thought.

He looked over to the body, unmoving and lifeless. He thought for a moment. He focused, trying to lift her body with his mind but it was to no avail. He clicked his tongue, and then dug a hole with another tree he had fashioned into a spade. Then, he landed on the ground and pushed the much bigger woman’s body into the hole.

Then he used his ability again, and covered the hole with dirt. Finally, he fashioned another staff out of his previous tool, and stuck it into the ground above the burial place.

With that act, Prose never once thought of the mage again. He turned again to himself, and lamented aloud.

“I can’t move a person, only myself. How drab.” And he shot through the woods, heading back towards Epim’s location.

In the Bewitching woods, Prose pondered the depths of the life he took.