The golden glow faded from Avin's sword, crumbling away like motes of ash scattered on the wind. He stood amidst the aftermath of his strike, chest still heaving, sweat tracing down the side of his face. Before him lay the abyss scorpion, severed in two, twitching grotesquely in its death throes. Around him, the forest bore the scar of his blade—a swath of felled trees cut clean as if reality itself had been sliced apart.
"Damn…" Avin muttered, lowering his gaze to the sword now back in its plain, unassuming form. He tightened his grip on the hilt. "Just in a swing…"
His attention shifted downward as a faint glow pulsed on his waist. His belt, stitched tightly around his simple brown academy-issued clothes, displayed glowing characters: 2.
Avin blinked. He leaned closer, rubbing his eyes.
"Two points?…" His voice cracked into outrage. "Two points!? This thing is a fucking green!?"
