Jiro stood nervously in front of the crowd, shifting uncomfortably as the attention fell on him.
Elius narrowed his eyes, arms folded, his immortal swords still floating behind his back like loyal sentinels.
Jiro cleared his throat, raised both arms, and the sands beneath his feet began to shiver slightly.
"Up!"
A moment later, a faint stream of sand circled his ankles like a soft ribbon, rising no higher than his knees.
He lifted one hand and the sand responded, lazily climbing up and forming a shaky circle around his torso. It looked weak.
Wobbly.
Like a child playing with a broken hula hoop.
"That's it," Jiro said, voice nearly drowned in embarrassment. "It doesn't go far. I can't throw it, and it doesn't block anything either. But… it can spin fast if I really focus!"
Elius didn't smile. But inside, something clicked.
Martial Skill.
The thought whispered in his mind like a spark.
