Three arrows shot, then five arrows, then ten arrows.
The arena became filled with wind projectiles.
The sharp arrows streaked through the air with terrifying speed, producing shrill whistling sounds as they cut through the atmosphere.
Amon continued moving.
His body weaved between the attacks with surprising agility. Sometimes he dodged by mere centimeters, allowing the arrows to pass so close that he could feel the wind brushing against his skin.
Other times he raised his sword.
Clang!
One arrow shattered apart.
Clang!
Another exploded into fragments of wind mana. The spectators watched with widened eyes. His movements looked smooth and effortless.
Yet everyone understood how difficult it actually was. A single mistake would mean getting hit. The distance between him and Eliana rapidly shrank.
Twenty meters. Then it was fifteen. Now only Ten.
Eliana's expression gradually became serious. A close-range fight against Amon was exactly what she wanted to avoid.
