Chapter 89: Victory In Sight
The moment the shot connected, the entire arena erupted. A wave of stunned silence rippled through the crowd for a split second before an explosion of noise followed—gasps of disbelief, roars of exhilaration, and cries of outrage all blending into a deafening storm of voices. The air buzzed with raw energy, the audience teetering on the edge of their seats, eyes locked onto the battlefield with renewed intensity.
The smoke from the impact curled outward, but before it could clear completely, a sudden burst of light flickered within the dense fog.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Multiple magical projectiles shot forth from the heart of the smoke screen, streaking through the air like vengeful phantoms. Their glow left burning trails in their wake as they hurtled straight toward Alistair, who had already leapt away the moment he regained his footing.
Yet, the moment he moved, the projectiles twisted mid-air, their paths bending unnaturally.
They were homing in on him.
Alistair’s eyes narrowed. He landed against the stone floor, instantly springing into another evasive maneuver. His movements were sharp, precise—each step, each pivot were executed with flawless efficiency as he dodged the incoming attacks. But the projectiles did not relent. They adjusted to every shift, every sudden change in direction. He twisted, vaulted, and weaved between the glowing streaks of death, narrowly avoiding each one. The barrage was unrelenting, a relentless tide of destruction.
With no other choice, he shifted his stance mid-dodge, twisting his claymore up to intercept the closest projectile. The moment steel met magic—
BOOM!
The projectile detonated on impact, unleashing a concussive blast that sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield. Alistair staggered back, his grip tightening around his weapon. The force of the explosion had pushed him, but he remained standing. However, he had no time to recover.
There were still more of them.