"Jon is a genius in combat. His battle awareness has always been on the high side from a young age. I'm afraid Godfrey has met his match," Sebastian said solemnly.
On the field, both of them locked eyes, anger and hate swelled within, and at the same time, they dashed forward.
Godfrey toward Jon.
Jon toward Godfrey.
Godfrey covered a greater distance, throwing a punch that tore through the air, but instead of hitting flesh, it moved right through smoke as Jon reappeared behind him.
A white, translucent projection of a seven-foot-tall weasel standing on its two feet, with bone blades for arms, flared to life beside him.
It swung its bone blades, slicing off Godfrey's right forearm even after Godfrey, through instinct, covered himself in golden armor.
'I promised to take off that arm!' Jon coldly said inwardly.
The mana construct lifted its right blade and struck down, but Godfrey burst into smoke.
