“Here we are then.”

Metz’ voice died in the expanse as he looked around the shadowy Arena, taking in the impressive statues that surrounded him. They were a disconcerting sight, he certainly hadn’t expected to be fighting in such strange surroundings. He supposed he was expecting a more traditional arena, with screaming crowds and blood and gore. The quiet darkness all around him was somehow far worse. It was also a little cold.

He ran his hand through his reddish-brown hair and waited, with little else to occupy his time until the strange humanoid wolf he had to engage arrived. He took the time to mentally check through his equipment, adorning his six foot frame was a simple green woollen jumper and tough brown trousers, with black boots. However, underneath his woollen jumper he wore a form-fitting underlay suit famed for being able to resist gunshot at range, and visibly on top he was equipped with a patched together knife-proof vest. Fairly well armoured, considering his talents, he was also armed to deal some damage of his own. Across his chest a curved knife lay in its sheath, and at his right hip his Fire-Type pistol was holstered.

He allowed the backpack to fall off his shoulders to the ground, freeing up his body for more elaborate movements as he warmed up with a few shoulder rolls. He kicked it to one side of the outside platform he was stood upon, turning his head to release the pressure. On top of his more obvious weapons he had a few extra rounds for his pistol, of course, and more importantly he had four vials on his belt. Two of them were filled with Pure Mana, one was empty, and the last was swirling with the darkness of Corrupt Mana. Those were the Mage’s real weapons, soon his foe would learn the meaning of his nickname, The Pillar Elementalist.

The wolf materialised within the chamber's space, standing on a platform just across from his opponent, who'd arrived sooner than he did. In the space between them was the center platform, and around him were four other platforms, plus the huge statues and their swords. Interesting place.

"Hmm."

With nothing else to do, he sized up his opponent. The man was dressed casually enough; green jumper and brown pants, boots too. Combat dress? Possibly. The vest was something else though, raggedy Anne as it was, and it held a knife too, wicked looking thing with a curved blade. The pistol that hung on his hip was strange, archaic, something he'd never seen before, but then again everything in this place was very foreign to him.

Daniel unzipped his hoodie and let it fall to the floor. His guns were seated beneath it, against his black-white tee shirt, hanging snugly in underarm holsters with their grips pointing outward. Magazines adorned his belt, seated within carriers that held them tight until he needed them, and his katana lay in its sheath on his left hip. Nothing else though, except to warm up (cool down?) his ice. With a slight gathering of energy, he froze a thin layer of ice all over his body, just as a sort of stretching for his magic, and then let it shatter as he shook himself off like the wolf he was.

"Alright then, that's that."

As he finished, he looked up and addressed his opponent.

"So. Let's get this thing going then?"

If Metz found it disconcerting to see a humanoid Wolf appear from thin-air across from him on the far platform he showed no sign of it. He simply settled into a firmer stance, slightly crouched, his hand settling over the firearm in its holster. The anticipation before battle joined was always exhilarating for the Mage, though he’d never admit it. His hands were rock steady, his eyes alert for any sudden movements, for he was unsure what his enemy was capable of. There was one Mage he had fought he utilized strange spells that imbued his body, making him faster and stronger than any Torm had a right to be. It was possible the Wolf was similarly strong or fast, dangerous to underestimate.

Usually Metz would give himself some time to test out an opponent before resorting to Magic, however this time he had a bad feeling that to waste time could be the death of him, so his left hand immediately went to the belt at his waist and pulled out a thin vial filled with swirling pure blue Mana. He lifted it to his lips while watching his enemy, who seemed to be covered in some form of Ice even as he watched. The implications of that nonchalant act were not lost on Metz, so his opponent was likely some form of spell caster after all, and without Metz’ own weakness in regards to energy consumption as he could waste precious Mana on theatrics. Metz finished the bottle, feeling his body grow more fluid and allowing euphoria to overwhelm him for but a moment. It was good to be strong again, even for a moment.

“Yes, we shall. Don’t hold back.” Metz grinned at his foe, as his eyes twinkled with enjoyment and a touch of power, he suddenly seemed filled with a greater force of presence. Certainly he looked physically fitter, as if in the mere moments since he had drank he had undergone a year of training with plentiful food. His hand shot to the hilt of his weapon and drew in one smooth motion, the speed of his actions surpassing what any ordinary Human, or Torm in this case, should have been capable of as he had it levelled at his foe, regardless of his current location.

However with his free left hand he caught at the threads of Mana required to begin his spellcasting, feeling for the right thoughts and beginning to chant under his breath, the Pillar of Earth, ready for activation, but where? He had to have chosen the spot from the moment he began casting, so his opponent moving would have scuppered an immediate assault, if that was what he had planned. Even as he readied his spell, the Fire-Type in his hand bucked as it fired a single 9mm shot, straight and true, at the Wolf’s centre of mass, if his enemy moved it would definitely make the shot harder, more likely to hit the far side of his body as Metz’ attention was elsewhere, but it was a price he paid willingly.

As he watched, the man known to him as Metz pulled a flask from his waist and downed it like a shot, and immediately he felt the man's presence in the chamber enlarge. Almost intimidating in its size.

Then, his ears flicked. Eyes danced and flickered to a source of new movement.

Metz's hand shot down to his holster and drew.

The soft clicking of the holster's clasp undoing itself gave it away.

Just as the gun leveled itself at him, he moved. His opponent's trigger squeeze would coincide with his immediate movement to the right, a short twist and hop on the same platform to get him a small distance away from the bullet. The round whizzed past him, audible to his ears, as it thudded into the statue behind him, releasing a cloud of dust.

Daniel furrowed his brow. His opponent was much faster than a regular dude. Retaliation was necessary.

Just like his opponent had, in one smooth motion he drew his handgun in his left, took aim and fired twice. His first trigger squeeze was on target, aimed straight at Metz's center of mass, but his second, coinciding with the recoil of the first, went high and left; the second bullet would most likely just whizz past the right side of his opponent's head harmlessly, unless he moved into its path of course.

As Metz fired he immediately dropped into a half-crouch, cutting his profile down in half and subsequently increasing the likelihood any retaliatory fire would miss him. He personally wasn’t confident he could dodge bullets, but his Wolf-like enemy had seemingly done just that with a quick dash rightward as he pulled the trigger, essentially meaning he had cleared his whole body from the bullet’s path before it covered the paltry distance. That was worrying indeed for the Mage, though he wasn’t aware just how late his enemy had left it to avoid the shot and still succeeded, it was still an extraordinary display of speed. Realising he was outmatched physically, he quickly cocked the hammer back on his pistol and tried to retain his concentration, as his opponent drew and opened fire.

As Metz was in that instance dropping low into his crouch the shot that was meant for his centre of mass could have struck his head, but he got lucky as his movement had set him off its immediate path, though to shoot that accurately that quickly while moving while dual wielding, it seemed his foe also outmatched him as a shooter. Metz was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. The shot cut a minor graze on his neck as it passed perilously close by him followed by its inaccurate fellow, they disappeared into the abyss behind him. The shot wasn’t enough to break his concentration, but it was close, and it certainly slowed his return fire as he fell into a full crouch on the floor.

He fired a second shot at the Wolf, aiming for his centre but unlikely to hit anything but a flank if he was continuing to show off his extraordinary speed.

His opponent dropped almost instantly into a crouch, barely avoiding his first bullet and the second, well, that was a clear miss anyway whatever. In that moment of time, second by second, only sheer speed would suffice.

Metz's gun was still pointed straight at him, and his enhanced senses caught the sound of his finger depressing the trigger once more, and so he moved, way before he even had a chance to fire. He twisted to the left, taking a step back as he leaned backward and moved out of the way of that incoming bullet, still training his handgun at his opponent though its weight threw his aim off slightly. As his opponent fired and inevitably missed, so too did he fire, once this time.

He had aimed at the man's center, but the quick dodging movement threw his aim low and slightly to his right, ending with his gun pointing somewhere at Metz's left thigh or shin, bound to end up missing if his opponent moved quick enough like he already had.

As he did this, however, his right hand shot up to his second pistol and drew it too, but held it up and ready without firing. Overextension would make him lose his center of gravity and have him fall flat on his back, which he didn't want.

With another shot missed Metz quickly pulled back the hammer on his pistol, really feeling the disadvantage of the more aged design of his weapon. He had fallen into a full crouch so quickly that he had to steady himself with his left hand to the floor, or so it seemed, though in actuality he was simply unleashing his magic.

The brown circle appeared on the ground and disappeared simultaneously as he immediately activated the spell, the Earth pillar bursting from the ground in a four foot diameter around him. Luckily for him the incoming bullet bounced off the hard basalt stone that his pillar had caused to rocket upwards in a six inch thick cylinder with himself in the middle. The rock stopped at a height of eight feet, curling in on itself to form a solid rock ceiling over the Mage, effectively entombing him within the structure.

Within the cylinder, Metz was able to catch his breath after the incredibly short but intense gunfight, thankful that he had the foresight to prepare the protective shell around himself in the opening stages of the fight. He had only cast the one spell, but his mana reserves were already falling and he judged he had only forty seconds of magic left in him, a sad state of affairs for any self-respecting mage. However, the beauty of his technique was that he could imbue the ground itself with his energy, locking it into a circle that could then form a pillar of element, so there was no reason for him to sit around and lose his mana needlessly.

His mind began to calculate the Arena, visualising the platforms on which the combatants were forces to remain. It was perfect for him, and all he needed to use his abilities was a vague image of where the place he wanted to imbue with a circle was, he had much better than that.

The initiative was with him now, his opponent might have options available to him, but attacking him within his stony fortress would be difficult, while Metz was more than capable of making life hell for him outside.

His eyes shifted, and his hands began to weave in a calculated fashion the pillar of flame.

"Huh."

Puzzled, he stood straight again, stowing the gun in his right hand as his opponent encased himself in a stone cylinder. Strange, but it gave him pause for thought.

The arena itself was weirdly made, like, platforms that weren't connected? Really? Plus these things were huge!

The statues around the arena were nice and all, but he saw little point in them. And since his opponent was busy doing whatever the hell he was doing inside that cylinder, he had little else to do.

"Hmm."

As he didn't know what his opponent was doing, exactly, Daniel decided to make him a little nervous in his stone shell. With a running leap and a burst of strength and speed, he cleared the gap between the platforms easily enough, landing hard enough to at least be audible; the whole chamber was deathly silent, after all. As he did this, he charged his ice magics, gathering them within his body and dispersing them through his feet and into the platform they now shared. The ground underneath the mage's feet would get strikingly cold extremely quickly, and the cold would carry up along the stone that he was encased in, slowly frosting over all around him, inside and out. The frost was blistering cold in itself; just by being encased within the stone capsule, he was now in a freezer.

As Daniel did this, he slowly walked around the cylinder, unsure of what to do next, but with his handgun pointed at the chamber at all times. If the man were to undo his barrier, he could shoot as soon as he saw body or whatever else came first.

As Daniel dawdled, wasting precious time outside his cylinder, Metz weaved an intricate fire spell. His plan was ultimately simple, if he created a shell of stone around himself his opponent would be forced to come close and investigate, and then Metz could see how tough he really was. With each passing second he could increase the radius of his pillar of fire, so that in just ten seconds it covered twenty feet, which was incidentally how long it took his foe to come up with a strategy for defeating his stone shell. He was impressed when he felt the first inkling of cold transfer itself through the stone walls of his cylinder, though the thickness of the stone provided him ample protection at first, it would soon betray him as it transferred the cold. However, to say that he would freeze to death in a matter of seconds would be a vast overstatement of the effects of cold on Metz, boosted by mana to become three times the man he should be, his body was capable of regulating itself to such an advanced degree he was hardly bothered at all.

The only problem was, with each passing second he weaved, and grew cold, his mana was burning low. Still, he only needed an additional five seconds, and his foe gave him just that as he slowly approached the pillar, just barely audible outside to Metz’ increased capabilities when under the effect of mana.

“Let’s see if you burn.”

The red circle manifested itself around the very edge of his platform, glowing an iridescent colour as fire suddenly billowed upwards, moving exceedingly quickly as it had a solid sixty feet height to reach in under a second. The fire erupted from every space of open ground around the rock cylinder, and billowed up and over the roof leaving no spot of safety for anyone trapped on the platform as the pillar erupted in flame at 1500 degrees Celsius. If his opponent had time to freeze the stone pillar solid before the heat erupted he might have been in trouble, but for the three seconds the fire burned with its incredible intensity the rock held and Metz was safe. However, as the last lick of flame spouted from the great pillar he felt empty and dropped to one knee, his mana spent.

The circle of red around the edge of the platform glowed and flared a bright crimson.

Daniel's eyes widened.

He bolted for the edge of the platform, covering his soles in ice as he slid and skated his way across the expanse.

Too soon, too late.

As he reached the edge the flame ring exploded beneath him, the fire and searing flames scorching his entire body. As he covered his face with his arms he kept on running, falling face first off the edge of the platform, his clothes and fur on fire as he plummeted the distance to the floor, impacting with a dull thud. Almost immediately he stood back up, exercising his ice powers as he flash froze himself in a thin layer of ice to douse the flames. The damage had been done, however; the extreme searing heat had shorn off a lot of his clothes, singed his fur and burned his flesh in places. Stuff that would heal slowly; wounds made with magic healed a lot slower than regular physical wounds. It pierced through his elemental self like a dagger. Though thankfully not as severe as he had thought, this wouldn't go away until he finished the fight or had some sort of miracle happen.

From his position beneath the platform, he could see it glowing slightly with the sheer heat. Weary and wounded as he was, he had an idea. The stone like this, upon extreme heating, would expand, theoretically. And, with liberal application of cold, would instantly contract and severely weaken, he would hope.

He trudged to the bottom of the platform, leaning against the central strut to rest while he let his ice magic expand through the platform, the icy cold spreading up through the strut and into the platform itself, dropping its temperature significantly fast. No doubt Metz would feel his feet grow chilly and cold air build from beneath him as Daniel did this, though since the mage was still trapped in his stone cell, he couldn't see where he was.

A single flake of ash began to descend from the ceiling, from where Metz's fires had scorched it in a towering inferno. Then another, more and more peeled away from the ceiling of the chamber, drifting down onto the battlefield like snow.

Although Metz was unable to manipulate his earthen pillar further without magic, he still had the ability to return the earth to its natural state at will after imbuing it with mana. He waited a few moments after the searing fire left the area, the fire having had the effect of heating up the surroundings slightly but with only a three second burn time having no real long term effects. Then, when he was satisfied it was likely he safe he removed the earth pillar while his left hand sank to his belt and pulled out another vial of pure mana, preparing to drink it if necessary. Habit forced him to see if his foe had been slain before he used the precious mana, though it would perhaps have been more tactically sound to drink it immediately. The rock sank around him abruptly, showing him the effect of his fire.

His opponent was below him, though he had no way of knowing it at that moment, and was somehow flash-freezing a huge area with his cold magic through solid rock. Metz was only just able to feel the slight chill in the air, as rock beneath him shifted and cracked from the sudden changes in temperature and its general mistreatment. With a head for elemental magic the Mage was fairly confident it was unlikely his heat treatment would destabilise the rock to the extent that it could fall apart, even if his foe continued to use his unfamiliar cold magic upon it.

“Now, where are you? I know you’re still alive, I can feel the cold.” He looked around the platforms with his gun at the ready, and then quickly looked up above himself.

“Hope this bastard can’t make himself invisible, hah.” His eyes widened. “Shit.”

Realising he wasn’t being killed by an invisible assailant, he realised there was only one more place for his foe to be. Beneath the platforms, most likely the very one he was stood upon at that moment. So, how best to eliminate him. He was hopefully injured by the fire, though obviously not dangerously, so maybe magic was the way to go. His foe was quick, and now he had an idea of how the Pillars worked, so he needed to utilize his fastest form of attack. Bolt, the electrical strike that could destroy solid rock with its impact, should be more than suitable for his nimble foe. He would see if he could outrun lightning.

He drank the potion quickly, replacing the vial and looking about himself, concentrating on forming the bolt, as the air slowly grew colder, his body warmed with the flow of mana.

"Hmm."

He harrumphed as his opponent emerged, unharmed of course. He didn't know where he was exactly, but obviously the mage was above him. Somewhere. On the platform.

He'd been observant enough to spot the circle and at least try to avoid it. If he'd been caught off guard, his injuries would've been much, much worse. The cold he was generating was slowly taking effect on his body; the wounds and burns he had were slowly icing over and healing, the effects of the magic ice slowly but very surely returning him to full strength.

The whole process, however, would take quite a long time, well after the fight was over.

Meanwhile, around him, ashes fell. When a flake hit the floor, it immediately froze the ground solid and then crumbled into powder. This, he did not notice. Not immediately, anyway. His focus was on how to beat his opponent without incurring more magical injuries.

Standing up off the central strut of the platform, he stared up at the stone bottom that his opponent was standing on top of. Thick, hardy stone; his ice had barely penetrated it. There was no way he was getting through that unless he had super strength beyond his current capabilities.

"Hmm."

A strategy slowly formed itself in his head. His opponent ran on magic, as did he, but where the mage could conjure many elements but had mastery of none of them, he had his ice and he was a master of it.

He stood straighter and took in a breath and closed his eyes. Then ice began forming all over his body, enclosing him in a hard, thick shell. As the last bits of the ice armour formed over his body, he took a step back, breaking free of the ice shell with a soft crack. Then he looked upwards.

"Oh yeah, I'm right down here. Come get me."

He shouted up, not moving from his spot, but as soon as he was done, he darted nimbly to one side, hiding underneath the platform and a few feet away from the ice shell he'd made of himself. Hopefully the spell the mage was conjuring would hit his shell instead of him. The broken ice would lend evidence to his "defeat", as it were, and he could climb upwards and continue his deception if Metz investigated.

For now, he positioned himself just right, dropping to a low crouch as he waited. He stood just beneath the platform's edge, behind the central strut so that the tall pillar was between him and his ice shell. If Metz just so happened to hop down and blast him, he'd hopefully be low enough to avoid whatever spell the mage threw at him.

“Not that easy doggy.” Metz murmured in response, holstering his pistol as he continued to weave a bolt, preparing it for release from both hands. It was going to be one hell of a bang.

Metz had no intention of jumping thirty feet off a platform to the ground, even with Mana, because getting back up would be a pain in the ass. He simply finished weaving his spell to its full potential and then ran towards the middle platform, jumping across the divide towards it, trying to get a better angle on his opponent below him. He span in mid-air as he did so, ready to release the bolt immediately if he sighted his foe.

Suddenly he heard footfalls, fast ones that tapped their way towards the far end of the platform.

He was running! The cheeky bastard!

Daniel immediately got up from his crouch, using his gift of speed to quickly accelerate to catch up and match the mage's steps. As he left the safety and shade of the platform, he watched as, above him, his opponent leaped the gap between his platform and the center one. Not wanting to give the mage something else to hear, he leaped at roughly the same time the mage did, emulating his jump across the platforms.

By the time Metz was around and facing the other way, Daniel was already underneath the platform, catching his breath from the short sprint while his opponent landed on the center platform unscathed. Hopefully his dash had gone unnoticed, because if it had, voila, element of surprise still in his favour. The ice shell he'd left underneath the original platform was still there, albeit melting very slightly. From this distance, however, it would look like the wolf, standing up albeit less straight, holding onto his side in pain as he recovered with an ice shell protecting him.

Taking in long, slow breaths, Daniel dropped down low again and prowled towards the far edge of the underside of the platform. If his opponent were facing the other way, it was his time to strike. He reached the edge, bunched himself up and leaped straight upward, the strength in his legs letting him go most of the way so he could grab onto the ledge with his fingers. With only one handhold, he struggled. He lifted his other hand to catch onto the ledge and steadily hauled himself upward, freezing his hands onto the platform itself to give him a stronger grip as he pulled by sheer strength of his body alone. Eventually, after a moment or two of struggle, he got a knee up, then the other, finally level with his opponent, whose back was facing him. He maintained his position low to the floor, legs bunched up to jump if the mage so much as turned to blast him away or whatever spell he was going to cast next.

Not wanting to ruin it by getting in close and potentially revealing himself, he drew his pistols and took aim at the mage's center of mass. Then he fired, both at the same time, the recoil shifting him back a step but both bullets screaming straight towards Metz's torso, one on either side of his back.

Metz leapt into the air; his body alight with mana driving him into overdrive. His opponent was probably still working on the assumption he was of a more mundane speed, and it was probably this that led his opponent to believe he could jump directly underneath him without alerting the mage. His own speed was nothing to scoff at as he easily ran at thrice his ordinary speed, but his opponent was still the faster, so diving across the gap at the same time as him was a mistake. Due to the additional distance he had to cover in order to remain out of his sight Metz caught the flash of movement beneath him. Striking out at him would have been near impossible, but he knew now he was underneath the current platform. The trick was for Metz to avoid showing his hand too quickly, as his opponent effectively cut off his own vision as well.

However, as he landed he caught sight of what seemed to be his foe beneath the platform, remaining completely stationary. This gave him pause for a period of exactly a second, as he calculated what it likely meant. Everything he had seen of his foe so far had suggested he relied on immense speed, and had some form of Ice magic at his disposal. The answer, he had left behind a very convincing decoy, but his movement beneath him as he jumped had given the game away. Metz span and turned, simultaneous to his enemy climbing up the platform behind him, having no way of knowing Metz himself had turned and could now strike at him.

He was only just lifting himself into position on the other side of the platform, to a position where he could spot Metz and Metz could spot him. Metz had no way of knowing, but he had actually frozen his hands to the platform to make the climb, a minor encumbrance that could cost him as Metz brought his hands together and shot out the bolt. His target wasn’t large, barely an upper-torso and head as the Wolf committed to pulling himself up, in that period of confusion where both had spotted each other simultaneously. However, Metz had amazing aim, and the bolt was one hell of a blast.

Lightning erupted from his hands straight for his foe’s upper torso, likely to completely destroy the section of platform he clung to alongside his upper-body if he got caught in it. Unfortunately, there was a down-side to such power, as Metz felt his body launched backwards, he flew off the platform and through open air, actually landing on the original platform and sliding along it on his back. Such was the force of the bolt, which his opponent now had to contend with.

As he clambered up onto the platform, before he could even get a shot off, his opponent threw his hands up and cast a spell. Reacting as fast as he could, he broke the thin layer of ice connecting his left hand to the platform and tried to twist to the left so the bolt tore past him, which it mostly did, but it also seared a path straight across the breadth of his chest diagonally downward, along with destroying the section of platform.

With a yelp he fell the fifteen or so feet to the ground and impacted with a thud and a grunt onto his back. Pain shot up and down his spine as he groaned and struggled to stand. The bolt had sheared off a clean section of his jacket and shirt and fur, leaving his flesh underneath burnt and bruised. Add to that the impact onto his back and he was feeling quite worse for wear, but not even close to out of the fight yet.

As he struggled to his feet, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs, bunched himself up and leapt straight upward to what remained of the original platform. His gun was in his hand now, and as he landed he gazed forward and spied his opponent on the floor. An easy target, especially from this distance.

Without waiting, he lifted the handgun, sighted down, aimed for his opponent's center of mass, and fired thrice. The first bullet would fly true, but the second, affected by recoil, would instead fly slightly higher and to the left. The third, fired after the first two, would travel slightly to the right of Metz's center of mass.

He squeezed the trigger once more to fire a fourth, but the pull was met with a resounding click.

Empty.

Metz dragged himself to his feet as gunshots rang out, confusion slowing his reactions as he immediately dropped and span rightward, the first shot slammed straight into his left side, piercing his stab-proof vest and lodging in the bulletproof padding beneath it. The second was off-target as he span, and the third went straight through the flesh of his upper left arm as he turned, cutting through cleanly and out the other side. Blood spurted immediately but not enough for Metz to worry that an artery or vein had been severed; he was winded and wounded, but he still had fight in him yet.

Luckily, Metz was right handed, so as he jumped to his feet he could still fight, spying his enemy on the far platform, his weapon apparently out of ammunition, which had fortunately spared the Mage’s life. Still his foe showed no serious damage, his bolt had been unable to slow him down long enough for himself to even recover. What could bring the wolf down?

Mana was still pulsing, giving him an unnatural strength, alerting him to his ability to use more magic if necessary. Perhaps it was time to mix things up a little. He began to chant, his left arm weakly waving the necessary symbols as his right hand drew the pistol at his side. He cocked and fired in one motion, as he readied a bolt, so far the only thing quick enough to hit his foe and a prelude to a greater attack. The shot was only a distraction, but amazingly it was still accurate, destined for hitting centre of mass on his at least momentarily stationary foe.

He saw, from a distance, his opponent wriggling his left arm about as he readied his gun in his right. Reacting to the motion of the draw, Daniel dropped down to the ground, stowing his empty gun in his underarm holster as the bullet fired at him flew just above him, missing any fleshy damage but blowing through his ponytail and scraping his cap as it sped past him.

The mage was casting another spell, he was sure of it. He wouldn't give him another chance.

Switching hands, he drew his other pistol with his right as he channeled ice into his left arm. As he stood he took aim and fired three more shots at Metz in quick succession; the first was aimed at his center of mass again, the easiest target. The second, affected by recoil, went low and right, speeding towards the mage's left hip. The third, also affected by the recoil of both shots, went high and left, heading for his right shoulder.

And, along with this, he focused all the ice he'd gathered into his left hand and released it at the platform the mage was standing on. The bolt of ice wasn't aimed at him though, it was aimed at the surface of the platform. The bolt would impact the platform like a snowball would, but the magics contained within would flash freeze an area about twelve feet circular, underneath the mage's feet. If he didn't avoid it his feet would be frozen solid, but if he did the ice would be like an oil slick under his boots, with nary any friction to speak of.

Metz was on his feet by that point, allowing him to get moving and provide a more difficult target for his foe as he was forced to duck, stow his pistol, and draw. In that amount of time Metz was more than capable of cocking his pistol and firing, while strafing quickly rightwards, his shot was off a little to the right rather than dead centre, but still likely to hit the stationary, albeit crouching, Wolf. His opponent had drawn by the time Metz could fire his second round, hopefully his aim was thrown off by his own dodging manoeuvres, if he even bothered to avoid the rounds at all.

Metz was burning mana quickly, two bolts in rapid succession and an abundance of quick manoeuvres was going to cost him dearly. However, he still had some energy left in him, enough to strafe to the end of his platform in seconds, at which point he would have to stop. Only one shot was on target due to Metz’ movement, and fortunately for him it flew underneath his raised right arm barely grazing his vest, adrenaline allowing him to ignore it momentarily. He reached the edge of the platform as he saw his foe’s ice coming in. However, his own ministrations were complete at that point, and with an effort born of pure determination he raised his left arm sufficiently to shoot the bolt, launching it underarm so that it cut right through the ice, blasting into the platform his foe stood upon. The bolt was unlikely to threaten his foe directly unless he had remained standing behind the Ice as the bolt flew through it, but it had saved Metz from its freezing effects.

As he reached the edge of the platform however he did not stop, he jumped, seemingly into open air as the nearest platform was in front of him; his hand furiously weaved as he flew through the air to activate his levitation spell before he fell more than ten feet below the platform, cocking his pistol to prepare his final shot. The main benefit to falling through the air for Metz was it took him briefly out of his enemy’s line of sight.

As Daniel's bolt flew through the air, the mage's lightning bolt tore through it and blasted a chunk out of the ceiling, at the same time as he stood and fired a single bullet at him. The round travelled across the expanse as he swiveled to avoid it, but the bullet tore through his side, shattering the ice that made his magical barrier as it sped through and past him. The impact knocked him to the floor with a grunt of pain but it otherwise did not harm him.

However when he stood the mage was gone. He'd run off to the right, last he'd seen. The wolf ran to his left, matching the direction as he ran to the edge of his platform where he saw the errant caster, floating downward by magic as he readied a shot straight at him.

Upon seeing the gun he dropped to the floor again, raising his pistol in that general direction as he stood again, in a crouch as he caught sight of his opponent once more. With gun raised, he emptied the magazine at the floating mage while channeling a simple ice magic into his left hand. The first bullet went straight and slightly left of Metz's center of mass, the second flew high and right, and the third went low and right, most likely to miss.

And immediately after that, he flung the gathered ice in his hand at the mage. The magic expanded in the air, forming sharp shards of ice that flew like shrapnel towards the mage in a cloud of ice.

He kept in a crouch, minimising his profile to the gun mage. Hopefully he'd finish the fight with this.