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.