Learning

Without a word and still circling Dasha, Igor sheathed the wind blade and rolled his shoulders. Another weapon—a broad glaive—slid from his back with a heavy thunk. Dark brown, the weapon sang with the essence of earth, solid and unyielding.

Igor charged. The earth cracked under his feet with every step, stone splinters flying into the air. These splinters did not come from the floor but from the heavy glaive itself.

Dasha danced forward, using his newfound understanding of the wind's leverage to push himself farther, faster than before. Still, the sheer weight of the glaive made it difficult to get close without risking a devastating blow.

'The shrapnels…'

Thirty rapid thrusts to cut the shrapnels that chased him. 

Igor spun the glaive with impossible speed, carving out a sphere of space that even Dasha couldn't immediately penetrate. More stone shrapnels broke out and chased.