Panting, wheezing, and ragged, the battle marches on.
Another cast of Domain of Frost ought to be able to kill him, but it would completely wreck my body, most likely repeating what happened to my arms when I tried to heal a dead Surge.
Just thinking that name brings not only pain to my arms but heart, but now's not the time. I need to win, more importantly, I'll never lose again.
"What's the matter? Too scared to move forward?" I call out between pants, holding myself up with my trusty staff. Thanks, Blaze.
"The same could be said about you, I've lost both my arm and leg, why choose to stay so far back?" Fyor smugly replies, weaving strange signs with his still free arm. Hm, is that how normal people cast silently? It's as if-
"Sign language," I say out loud as soon as it dawns on me.
"Come again?" Fyor says, his hand never stopping.