He gestures toward the aberration, its form still writhing as it struggles to repair itself.
"Do you have any idea how long it took to perfect that creation? How many failures paved its path?"
"You say that like I'm supposed to care" Ezra responds, spitting out the blood in his mouth.
"No matter" the elf replies. "Your death is already set in stone"
While gasping for air, Ezra completes his assessment of the current situation and reserves his reply.
On cue, he turns and sprints towards the aberration, who lets out a guttural roar, and transforms its arm into an elongated but thin cudgel fully covered in spikes ready to turn Ezra into a pin cushion.
Watching all this, the elf clicks his tongue in distaste.
'Was I overly kind in my evaluation?' the elf wonders, watching Ezra. 'If he doesn't have a high enough intellect to understand the current situation, then perhaps I overestimated his potential as a threat'
