Alira’s frown deepened, her sharp eyes locked on Sylra. “But is it enough?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rhys isn’t even using his full strength yet.”


    The battle was far from over, and the crowd knew it. The tension in the arena was palpable, every eye fixed on the two combatants as they prepared for the next exchange. Rhys’ smirk widened, his posture relaxed but ready, while Sylra stood firm, her resolve unshaken. The fight had taken a new turn, and the stakes had never been higher.


    But Rhys was already moving again.


    He surged forward, closing the distance with the same relentless speed that had defined his earlier assaults. This time, as soon as he felt the shift in the air—the faint, almost imperceptible ripple that signaled another wind attack—he instinctively raised his arms, bracing for impact. His muscles tensed, his Essentia flaring in anticipation as he prepared to absorb the blow.


    Yet, the strike never came.


    Instead, a sharp, well-placed low kick struck his leg, the force of it precise and calculated. The impact threw him off balance, his footing faltering for the briefest of moments. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual composure—just as Sylra’s fist came streaking toward his face, her Essentia swirling around her knuckles like a miniature storm.


    With no time to think, he reacted on pure instinct.


    Pushing off the ground with explosive force, he vaulted high into the air, his body twisting gracefully as he evaded the blow by a hair’s breadth. The crowd collectively held its breath, the tension in the arena reaching a fever pitch as they watched him soar, his golden aura trailing behind him like a comet. Even in mid-air, his focus never wavered, his eyes locked on Sylra as he began to twist his body, already preparing to counter.


    But Sylra didn’t let up. The moment his feet left the ground, she unleashed another burst of wind, her Essentia surging as she aimed to catch him while airborne—where he couldn’t dodge as easily. The attack was swift and precise, a concentrated blast of air that roared toward him with unrelenting force.


    Yet, Rhys wasn’t just any opponent.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    As the wind attack closed in, Rhys channeled his Essentia into his arm, the energy coalescing into a gleaming blade of pure light. It extended from his hand, sharp and radiant, its edges shimmering with an almost otherworldly brilliance. The crowd gasped, the sight of the blade drawing murmurs of awe and disbelief.


    With a single, practiced slash, he cleaved through Sylra’s wind attack, the blade cutting through the air with a precision that defied belief. The force of the attack scattered into harmless currents, the wind dissipating into nothingness.


    The arena fell silent.


    Then, before anyone could process what had happened, Rhys propelled himself forward—still mid-air—soaring straight toward Sylra with a speed that defied logic. His body seemed to blur, the golden aura around him flaring brightly as he closed the distance in an instant. The crowd gasped, their voices rising in a mix of shock and awe as they struggled to comprehend the maneuver.


    “No way!” Towan shouted, his eyes wide in disbelief. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the railing as if trying to get closer to the action. “When did he learn to do that? That’s not just speed—that’s something else entirely!”


    Alira’s gaze snapped to Elliot, her sharp eyes filled with urgency. “What was that?” she demanded, her voice tense. “How is he moving like that mid-air? That’s impossible!”


    Elliot’s expression was serious as he watched Rhys move, his analytical mind racing to piece together the technique. “Shadow Step,” he answered, his voice low but steady. “I’ve read about it. It’s an advanced Essentia technique that allows the user to literally take a step in mid-air, defying momentum and gravity for a brief moment. It’s incredibly difficult to master—only a handful of warriors have ever been able to use it effectively.”


    Sylra’s mind worked fast, her sharp instincts kicking into overdrive as she assessed the situation. But Rhys was faster. As he descended, his body twisted with lethal precision, his leg arcing through the air in a devastating tornado kick. The sheer speed and force behind the attack were enough to knock out an average fighter in one blow, the air itself seeming to crack under the pressure.


    But Sylra wasn’t average.


    In the blink of an eye, she raised a high-speed wind barrier, her Essentia surging as she formed a swirling wall of air to absorb the impact. At the same time, she layered a thin cushion of air around her body, the technique subtle but effective in reducing the force of the hit. Her movements were precise, her focus unshaken even as Rhys’ attack bore down on her.


    The collision was thunderous, the sound echoing through the arena like a shockwave. The force of Rhys’ kick slammed into Sylra’s barrier, the wind swirling violently as it struggled to dissipate the energy. Even with her defenses, the sheer power behind the attack sent her skidding backward, her feet dragging harshly against the stone floor. The friction created faint sparks, and the crowd winced as they watched her struggle to maintain her footing.