Not Quite Dead

The mana Tanamar expended shaped his volatile 'arrow' into something aerodynamic. 

First word. Second word. 

The ground he stood on lit up like a holiday tree. He felt his silver hair stand up like he was some sort of legendary Tyrion hero. 

Tanamar grimaced upon realizing how upset Tycon would be if he were around to sense his mana output. Even without Apollonius' assistance, he was obviously and unapologetically Gold-Rank. 

Third word... fourth word-- Tancred looked over, probably having figured out that he wasn't actually winning. 

"[What the-- why are you OVER THERE?!]" The oversized set of scuffed armor bellowed. 

"I ejected out of Apollonius like five minutes ago, guy."

The mana flowing through Tanamar's body and through the surroundings echoed his words... but he didn't particularly care if Tancred heard him.