Balon at first felt confusion and blind rage, but calmed upon awakening once again. His amputated leg and torn tendons were healed. His body now rippled with power and muscle, no longer gaunt and degenerate from the long centuries of imprisonment. Elysium's creator had branded Balon's once milky-white skin the color grey using the giant's own plague, to give him a taste of his own poison and to mark him as different, twisted, and corrupted. Somehow, Xir'ain had made Balon's skin even darker, though that hardly mattered.

With a flick of his hand Balon manipulated the water, conjuring a raging current that snatched up his fallen spear and returned it into his hand. The tempest dissipated as abruptly as it had been summoned, though it still would have likely knocked down Enly'air. Balon snatched up his shield, decided to abandon the scraps of metal that had been his armor, and then moved to follow the tiny girl.

She looked exhausted and weak, hardly capable of standing even in the near weightlessness of the water. Balon, in stark contrast, now felt alive and powerful. Balon leered over at her, slightly disappointed that his gaze still had no effect on her. The giant then turned his eyes towards the spear in his hand, admiring how his weapon escaped unscathed, not even scratched by all the tumult that had just occurred. Finally, he spoke, [b]"Little thing, if I were to hit you over the head with the point of this spear, do you reckon that you would be crushed, or cleaved in twain?"[/b]

The giant looked back to Enly'air as they walked, hoping for a response and a chance to torment her further.