Cont. from Part Fifty Three or Story Start/Part One if your just joining

It started to rain, just a trickle at first but now more like a  drizzle. 

Valar stared at his opponents breathing heavily....he waited for their next move. 

His sword held high weighed heavily, but he held his offensive stance, the fresh blood on his blade trickled down his arms as it was washed clean by the rain.

The wounded monk suddenly cried out and attacked, ignoring his wounds he committed to an all out attack moving forward at incredible speed he delivered a flurry of powerful overhead strikes. 

While this was unexpected, Valar remained present in the fight, allowing him to parry each aggressive blow with more confidence then the last, each new attack teaching him something new about his opponent. 

The monk’s strength seemed to be waning, his wounded leg perhaps starting to show, his stances were not well formed and now sloppy and revealing openings.  

He was thinking about ending the attack with a quick grab but suddenly he felt the presence of magic!  the other monk had launched another fireball! 

This time fully formed, the fireball hissed as it rocketed towards him, the rain having little effect. 

The attacking monk either sensing or knowing the attack was coming simply abandoned his sword and flipped backward with unexpected acrobatic skill…was this their plan all along? 

He had little time to flee, but like last time the fireball seemed to suddenly move in slow motion…no it wasn’t just the flame, even the monks and rain were moving much more slowly

…He had time, but this time he would not dodge. 

Again he extended his hands forward towards the incoming fireball his finger tips burning as the flame approached. 

The same tiny strings of magic pulled away from the flame and connected with his outstretched fingers,  

He recoiled his arms as if catching a ball…a ball he dare not touch.   For some reason he felt he could push the flame away, that the strings  were like extensions to his fingers…he pushed but to no avail, the  flames approached. 

Something else unlocked in his mind, he realised something new, a deeper understanding unlocked he could see beyond the flame he instinctively understood the magic that bonded it.  

The fireball continued towards him on a collision course, the flames starting to burn his hands and arms… he needed to get rid of it or he would be consumed by its destructive powers. 

With moments to spare he stepped back with his left foot, the flames moving slowly through time now passing by his left side. The flames scorched his body as it motioned by; he did not withdraw his hands despite feeling like he was holding a cooking pot fresh off the fire the pain was great, but becoming more bearable.  

As the flame moved by and started to pass the tiny tentacles stretched, he realised he could pull on the magic…interesting, he could pull but not push.  Using this knowledge he pulled on the fire ball hard changing its trajectory he swirled his body fully around to left, like a sling shot hurling the fireball straight towards the retreating monk. 

Normal time restored the fireball was moving at full pace and it had a new target.