Zephyr: Recollection
Now is the time for me to become the ultimate teacher, learning infinitely and teaching the infinite wisdoms. For this battle, I will definitely need my visions. Unfortunately, I cannot clearly read anything in written form from the future, as the tiny image I receive loses too much clarity. It does not help that Lysander seems to use long, ribbon-like slips of paper to write the sigils. What an odd technique, indeed. However, our duel is about to begin. Right now, I have to worry about what I am going to do. I wet my inkstone and clean my brush.
Fighting Lysander will hopefully not be too taxing. As I use my visions, I notice the moose reading as they prepare their paper slips and ink. The ink seems to come from a tiny vial in a brownish mixture. I do not see how anyone could fit a brush into that tiny opening in the vial, and I am curious what would happen in a fight against them. More importantly, as I have covered every language known on this island, the book they read is in no text I can identify. It looks like some sort of old, obscure language which nobody would use anymore. I do not understand how a book like that can even be relevant when a book on language has yet to teach me anything of it. I am a vigilant scholar, and I scour every library and academic source on these topics. Is the language too obsolete and undeveloped? No matter. I do not think I will be able to get any ideas from the book alone. I need to view the future of this battle.
I look five or ten minutes into the future as we begin our duel. As I finish up mine, Lysander is already incredibly prepared, as all five elements are in use on their side. Not quite the efficient elementalist, are they? No matter, I can see their core. The core is a fire core. To put it simply, all I need to do is utilize water attacks, and I should be all set. No need to support my core if they are going to be this obvious.
It seems my inkstone is prepared. Meanwhile, Lysander seems to have prepared a simple needle. I take this moment to check on Ashura. They just went through so much turmoil. “How are you holding up, Ashura?” I ask. I see Ashura setting up a small camp next to us, probably to spectate.
“I’m doing fine,” they reply, although I get the sense that they are lying again.
“Odd, it does not sound like you are telling the truth.”
Ashura shifts around. “I was afraid of that. Even without Abaddon harassing me, I still can’t seem to speak in a way that sounds like the truth. It’s a bit like a curse, it seems.”