Nox wanted to push this mana further, to see its limits. He focused, coaxing more of it from his core. The sleek blackness spread, crawling up his shoulder, then creeping across his chest, forming a partial breastplate of the same light-absorbing material. It was harder this time, the drain on his mana more pronounced.
He tried to shape it, to make the gauntlet on his hand form into something more menacing than just a reinforced fist. He pictured talons, long and wicked. The mana rippled, then bulged, but didn't quite form the sharp points he envisioned. It was like trying to sculpt with half-set tar; he could influence it, but precise control was still eluding him.
'Damn,' he thought, frustration passing through him. The effort was making his head swim. The new layer of armor receded, flowing back into his arm, then dissipating entirely. He swayed, catching himself against the stone ledge. His mana bar, visible in his vision, was nearly empty.
[MP: 5/55]
