The air was alive with his magic, electric as it pulsed in his hands, intensifying every blow that hit its target. His hands were red hot, his eyes saw every piece of destroyed ceramic as they passed by his face. He heard every crack as it was made at his hands. With all this magic pulsing through him he thought he didn't even need the rail, he could use his fists to get the same results. He looked around himself, surveying the damage, finally satisfied that nothing remained he dropped the trusty towel rail to the ground where it thudded against the carpet of debris. 