"By the way…" Zukulum's gaze wandered toward Ragnar, studying him from head to toe. "I see that you haven't reached the second stage of your class yet—unlike Orakh and Sharina. It's not too late to change your path. I can sense great potential in you… a path in Magic."
Ragnar groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want it." His tone was flat, final.
He wasn't the type to sit in the back muttering spells or spend weeks memorizing chants just to learn one attack. He preferred the clash of steel—the raw sound of a blade meeting flesh.
Zukulum didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes glimmered with distant fascination as she continued, "Wonders aren't about what you see… but what you feel. The mystic arts are everywhere. All you need is to open yourself to them. Surrender your will to something greater."
Ragnar crossed his arms, shaking his head. "I'd rather not."
