Ivor stepped back and slowly exhaled. The chamber felt calmer now. He lowered his sword slightly and looked at the blade, his attention settling on the last few inches near the tip where he had forced the mana to gather.
He replayed the fight in his mind. The control had been rough and unstable. He still could not hold the concentrated mana at the tip for more than a brief instant, and every attempt before the final strikes had drained his core faster than he liked.
Yet the difference had been clear. Even that crude concentration had cut deeper than the wide coating he had used earlier. It had proven something important. Precision did not always require perfect control. Even an imperfect focus of mana could change the result of a strike.
