After his bout with the lizard group, Arctodus rested a bit to regain his depleted energy, instead opting to watch Zelrius go crazy on the rest of the Lizards in the area. He looked like a veritable whirlwind of death, his sword blurring with the speed of his strokes as lizard after lizard erupted in a crimson shower of blood before lying still. Whenever any lizard was about to land a blow on him, by some turn of miraculous luck they would trip, or find themselves misdirected in some way.
It was actually something Zelrius hadn't noticed himself; the weird things that seemed to happen to enemies as they attempted to attack him. A Gust of wind throwing off a tail and thenfore flubbing a jump there, a rock rolling where there wasn't one before to misdirect the enemy, and the occasional swing of the sword that did what felt like extreme amounts of damage higher than what he was used to. Though he grew self conscious with Arctodus watching and noticed it now, understanding that this might be the Luck stat he drove so hard into at work. He grinned, tapping one of the knocked over lizards ever so lightly with his sword, and by the third tap, the thing seemed to blow up in its own ribcage, signalling a random critical hit. How weird.
