437 The Skill Created through Hard Work, Lots of Theorizing, and Insanity

Without looking back at his disheartened girlfriend, Cynrik slipped into the familiar negative world known as the Shadow Realm and soon touched down on the branch of one of the shadowy trees that dotted the realm as far as the eye could see. 

Quickly finding a decent position on the branch he was standing on, Cynrik collapsed on his butt and leaned his back against the structure.

"Balance my ass; this is no better than stacking the deck in favor of Native Vinestrians," Cynrik complained to no one in particular. 

"Seriously, just when I think I am getting ahead, everyone else gets advantages I cannot foresee. DAMN IT!" Erupting in muddy four-colored Light that seemed severely out of place in the Shadow Realm, Cynrik slung his left arm forward and created a whip of pure condensed Mana, which cracked loudly upon impact with the branch he was propped up on. 

"Every FUCKING TIME!"

CRACK, CRACK, BOOOM!