Yeet me higher

It felt good to be back on the battlefield. He'd learned more here in his own quest for knowledge than he'd ever been taught in Valhalla, or at least since his mother had died. Here had been his turning point, when he'd seen the mess that the real world was. Chances were good that it was here that he'd meet his end, too. So it was with great surety and confidence that he strode through the battlefield, choosing his ground carefully. Not confidence that he would win, because that was never a guarantee, but confidence that this was where he was meant to be and that he would grow only stronger from his time here.

He stopped in his chosen area, and paused to watch the sun breach the horizon, spilling gold over the summer grasses where previously the light had been the faint blue light that precedes dawn. Rising like the Adravendi, he thought to himself, in complete and utter seriousness and unaware of the melodramatic tone. He lifted his head and let his voice ring out over the newly-gilded land, calling an opponent to face him.