As his opponent's blade met his force attack, a wave of nausea filled the boy's stomach. There was a methodology to the swing – some clear-minded plan to counter it that Morus couldn't fathom. While a fighter as large could be expected to take the brunt of the push and stumble back, the boy had never seen someone meet it headlong. He watched as the air around the weapon crackled in the dark, before sizzling to the nothing that was there before. And though his opponent had tensed for a moment, whatever strain he felt was gone as he took slow and careful steps towards Morus.

The boy now felt the cold grip of panic on his neck and down his back. His breaths became more labored, first from the strain of the attack itself, and then from the imagined retributions that well wait in store for him. His heels shuffled back a bit with each step the warrior took towards him, and his knees were as stable as the makeshift rigging the platform was strung to. He stretched out his left arm in instinct, but his hand lost its resolve and caused his to drop his blade to the floor. He dropped down, scrambling amid the sand in a hurried desperation to find it.

”What am I doing?” The boy's thoughts were filled with panic.

Morus had heard tales of demon warriors in his youth. What stood before him could well have been a soldier of Haidia's army, beastly ranks whose campaigns of bloodshed were legendary. Even if he wasn't sure, the very image that conjured in his head caused the cold sweat on his brow to turn to ice. At last his fumbling fingers found his knife, and he took it quickly into his right hand, but with his left, a devious idea pushed the terrors aside for a moment. It lay buried in the sand, so he took all fistful of his he could muster, and stared his opponent straight in the eye. By now, they were but a few feet from each other.

“You speak of tricks?” The boy said coyly. With all the strength his form could muster, he flung the sand up towards the warrior's eyes. But before that even landed, he summoned the same strange force he used before. This time his legs tingled and pricked all the way down to his feet, and he leapt forward from his bent position. His right hand held the blade steady in front of him, as he flung himself as a missile right towards his opponent's left leg. Behind him, a cloud of dust was kicked into the air where he once stood.