The trial had given him many things.
Small things, mostly. Adjustments. Refinements. They were the kind of gains that didn't announce themselves with a system notification or a stat increase but settled into his muscles like a second language learned too late to be native but too useful to ignore.
'And as many great men have said throughout the ages,' Quinlan mused as he closed the distance on the first squad of defenders, 'it's not the size that matters. It's how you use it.'
His mana was climbing. The regeneration rushed upward with every second he wasn't burning reserves, and right now that mattered more to Quinlan than creating spectacle after spectacle.
The ice dome was expensive. The soul army was expensive. Lightning was expensive. If he kept throwing large-scale spells at every pocket of resistance, he'd drain himself dry quicker than he could regenerate.
Which meant it was time to use what three very specific teachers had spent weeks carving into him.
