Green turbid seas stretched out in all directions, for as far as the eye could see. Walkways of pale marble extended beyond Anubis' view, their bone-white color twisted with a tint of bile as they glimmered under his gaze. The magic-generated world, warped in its own oddity, seemed like a twisted mnemonic of Tirel’s conversely energetic harbor.Closed to Shin.
Under his gold-eyed gaze the world stirred. Lime-green radiated rays spread across the sky like a full moon, acting as the main light source of the deathly plane - a bizarre alternative to the real world’s white-yielding sun.
The essence of witchcraft had often intrigued him, much so that he envied all those who could bid flames to streak out of their palms. Where he had an aversion to dealing with the monks, their supernatural abilities never failed to impress the Salavrian greatly. If they were adept at one thing--it was, he considered, none other than sorcery. Standing as sufficient evidence, the world he fared in authenticated their unrivaled exercise of black magic, and his being in the middle of the Coronian capital only awed him all the more.
A dark, towering figure sprang from the sea beside him, remained upright for a spare moment and -- as he leaped forth -- plunged down to the space he’d just occupied. There was a pause. Steadily it retired to the depths, writhing on its way before it wholly disappeared with a sounding sizzle. The spot which it had hammered gave way to steam, thawing under the blow like ice; it was then a roily gorge of green, threatening to take the entire marble headland with it in the process.
A giant oily tentacle the size of a developing wyvern, yet big enough to pulp him like a fig. What concerned him was not its bone-crushing strike, but its matter-melting powers. The marble dematerialized in three damned seconds, he mused; I ain't guessing how much I'd fare.
Where he never actively looked for a duel, the Salvarian knew where to look when he sought decent competition, one that would meet him in a world punctuated by writhing tentacles and pea green seas of melting liquid. The monks intended to test his mettle, and Anubis would never disappoint.
The Salvarian recoiled once the tentacle resurfaced beside the three arms-wide hole, curiously slithering in the waves. Both knew that it was quicker than he, yet it did not stir. It remained in its spot, observing him through its featureless skin. Anubis - looking round, brow furrowed - shouted, “Bring them on already!”