Serpents of blue fire streaked down his forearm and enveloped his fist, then continued on to consume the bandages as well - not in fire or lightning, but flat, concentrated dark-blue, speckled with white dots, as if whatsoever the light touched was rendered unto a window to an alien sky.

“I’ve grasped that which my progenitors gave me since our last bout, you big buxom oaf,” he said, raising his arm as if to crack the long strip of canvas like a whip, only for his arm to shakily fall to his side.

“Did you now?” she smugged at him, crossing her arms. His eyes swept across the hall - across the other disciples looking at him - and, with what must’ve been a feat of herculean self-control, he stopped himself from showing off.

Sighing in frustration, he once more raised his arm and, with the bandage wrapping itself around the limb like a serpent, the light vanished, “I am not wasting expensive pills on a demonstration. My right arm alone is sufficient proof of my ability. Were I not able, I would not be standing here on my own two feet. Besides… It would be shameful to let father place his own life on the line and choose to stay behind.”

“Surely, there are things you can do that don’t demand these expensive pills,” one of the recruits mentioned, pointing out the spear. His tone clearly suggested he had encountered Halxian before he had become slightly more tolerable. “I’ve never seen your insufferable lordling self with that thing, at least prove you can use it.”

“The fact I carry it is-” he began indignantly, only to sigh halfway through, reaching up to his back, his arm-wrapping partially unraveling and coiling itself around the spear, then pulling it into his grasp. “Fine. Will showing you that I can handle the weapon I’ve been training with since I could walk be proof enough?”

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves,” Ozmir chimed in. “I do not recall seeing you at the vetting. Even if you are a bonafide Estoras wunderkind, we have no way to know your attributes are up to snuff. Come, we have an attribute reader in the apothecary.”

“Fine. But only the hag- er, elder may be present.”

Zel found this to be acceptable, and so the attribute check was carried out, although the young man seemed hesitant.

NAME HALXIAN ESTORAS SEX MALE SPECIES HUMAN (ALTER-GREKURIAN) FORCE C- PRECISION C HARDNESS D+ AETHER A-

They didn’t speak on the matter, only exchanging looks when Zel saw his attributes and nodded that they were sufficient. How could she not?

“Fuckin’ hate those things,” he muttered. “Like a snake in my arm.”

As they returned to the main hall, Zel asked him: “Why have I never seen you with the spear if you’ve really been training with it for as long as you claim?”

“That… Look, father wouldn’t let me carry it in public until now, is that what you wanted to hear?! Fuckin’ Iusticia…” he snapped back.

A few minutes later, those interested in seeing his ability for themselves had gathered in the courtyard to see the noble inheritor prove to the newborn sect that he was able to use his weapon, and prove it, he did. Halxian picked out a series of moving target dummies, drawing in a deep breath as he muttered: “Cloud-scattering Sacred Breath…”

The teenager proceeded to perform a meticulously-rehearsed, several minutes long kata that was clearly intended to display the performer’s ability with a bladed spear, from long-reaching, high-impact thrusts to using the polearm as a mobility tool and fighting in close-quarters. Then, when they thought they had seen enough, Halxian stopped for a moment, subtly adjusting his grip before he resumed, only this time, he lashed out at dummied five meters away, throwing out with his spear and pulling it back with his arm-wrap, only to then hook his spear around a dummy and pull himself to it, finally perching atop the wooden thing as, with one yank, he pulled the spear free and made it return to its place on his back. One could clearly hear the subtle metallic ring of cold-iron as he maneuvered the polearm about.

Zelsys had fully expected him to take this moment to boast, but he didn’t. He just stood there, briefly and without disdain looking down on those who had doubted his ability before he jumped down. What he had shown himself able to do may have been more than enough for others to accept him as capable, but Zel, admittedly, held a grudge.

“Very impressive, but a rehearsed routine won’t do you any good in a real fight. Can you make it dull itself, or should I get you a quarterstaff?” she said, pointing out his spear. His answer was instant, the blade of the still very much arrogant young master’s polearm changing into a dull paddle.

An overt agreement was unnecessary. Even the other sect members had understood what was about to transpire, backing off a short distance. When Zel tacitly made it clear she wouldn’t pull out her own weapon, the young man came at her with an admittedly ferocious and well-planned assault, making full use of his weapon’s superior range and the fabric tentacle enveloping his arm. What was telegraphed as a simple thrust could be made a far longer-reaching one. However, even the wrapping had tells, and it too telegraphed its user’s intentions, just as muscles did. It wasn’t the fact that Halxian’s overall physical capability and actual skill had noticeably improved since they last fought that impressed Zelsys, but the fact he quite readily changed how he fought based on what she was doing.

When she used Graze Pulse to make his blows just slip off her, he began mixing up blunt strikes between thrusts, feinting in order to force her to decide whether to use the aforementioned technique or its counterpart. He attempted to entangle her in his wrapping using the spear as a grapple, and when that failed, he simply left his wrapping to hang loosely from his hand while attacking two-handed and using the wrapping to lash out, minimizing its windup time by eliminating what precious split-second it took to unwind from his arm. This was the way in which his high Aether rating manifested, as the wrapping was blisteringly fast when it did move, and it managed to wind itself around her leg with an inordinately strong grip, pulling hard enough that she had to brace herself as to not fall over.