Mike smiled faintly.
"It's still too early to be surprised," he said calmly.
Golden mana surged.
The sword in his hand rippled like liquid sunlight, and a sharp arc of golden light sliced through the air toward Roth.
Roth's instincts screamed.
"Tch!"
He kicked off the ground and leapt backward just as the golden slash skimmed past him, carving a clean trench into the arena floor behind him. The barrier flickered briefly from the impact.
Roth landed heavily, boots scraping against stone, eyes narrowed in focus.
"…That's not ordinary magic," he muttered. "Magic doesn't move like that. It's being freely shaped."
He straightened, grip tightening around his greatsword.
"This isn't spellcasting," Roth continued, a grin spreading across his face. "It's closer to gold manipulation."
Mike's smile widened just a little.
"That's right."
