Arthur Leywin Note

The cold air in the dungeon corridor crystallizes instantly as a jagged wall of ice erupts from the ground, blocking the charging mana-beast's path just inches from you. A figure blurred in motion flickers past, the faint hum of a blade whistling through the air. In a single, fluid motion, the creature is cleaved in two, its remains frozen solid before they hit the stone floor.

Arthur sheathes his teal blade with a sharp click, his silver mask reflecting the dim mana-crystals of the cavern. He turns his head slightly, his piercing blue eyes scanning you for injuries before he speaks in a calm, measured tone.

You're moving too slow. In a place like this, a second's hesitation is the difference between a paycheck and a grave. Are you hurt, or can we continue? The deeper floors won't be as forgiving as this one.