After Ling, the Convocation found its rhythm, and the bouts came fast.
The water-woman stepped onto the Plain against a Progeny wreathed in white fire, and for a moment the fire seemed to have the better of it, roaring over her in sheets.
Then she simply went deeper. Her Dimensionality sank beneath the fire's, a whole ocean opening under the Plain where no ocean should fit, and a tide rose out of it lit from within by swimming fish of light. It closed over the flames from below, where they could not reach, and drowned them!
Batiatus went next, and talked the entire time.
"Your left foot is slipping," he said, and it slipped. "You are tired," he said, and his opponent staggered. "That blow will miss," and it missed, by an inch, every sentence true for three breaths within a few paces of him, his Dimensionality pressing each word into the ground around him like a stamp.
He was gloriously, unbearably annoying. He was also winning, right up until he challenged the stag-headed one!
