After a while, time enough for Link to complete a few sets of his Hylian kata, the obsidian-lined blade disappeared, leaving a wisp of distortion in its wake. Then, in no particular order, the other blades followed its lead, popping out of existence with a trace of their particular element. All but the gold-hilted greatsword, the centerpiece of the set.

Espedon's eyes narrowed in focus, as though he were grasping for some thought that was escaping him. Then insight came, and he relaxed. His body gravitated upward, with legs still crossed. The greatsword hovered into his hand, and his feet unfurled below him- and he was standing.

There was an expression of satisfaction on his face. Before his fight with Sikanda's wielder, before Nesreca, the Seventh had done all the fighting for him. Most of the things he'd been able to do while channeling the blade were mind-boggling; levitation, short-range flight to clear terrain, had all been done instinctively. Now he had done it on his own, his will focused and guided by his memory of how the Seventh had, itself, controlled it.

Leaping tall buildings in a single bound was pretty far out of reach, but any gravity-defying was, at this point, an improvement.

Propping the Seventh up on his shoulder, Espedon looked to the other side of the roof at the green figure swinging his own blade around. After a moment's deliberation, he sauntered across the rooftop. It'd been a while... maybe this kid could use a live target.