He walked toward the snake, and instead of attacking, it stared at him. It was as if it was assessing his threat level with the stick. He was wobbling, and he was finally showing signs of being tired, but somehow, the air around him was different. Even the snake slithered backward.
He swung the stick in short intervals with his right hand, and his veins flickered with each swing. His eyes looked like they were staring off somewhere else, as if he was not acknowledging the snake anymore.
'Hahh, how long has it been since I swung a sword? I wonder if those brats are doing okay.' His swing stopped midway, and the stick began to grow. Mana spread across its surface, and veins of purple light crept like the roots of a tree, as if the mana was rewriting the object's very essence.
The air grew heavier, and even the snake seemed to sense that something was wrong here. A feeling was telling it to run.
