Chapter 101: Not Bad for an Old Man!
In the stands, the tension was mounting.The dragons, initially confident of an easy victory for their champions, began to stir uneasily.Something had shifted in the fight’s dynamic an unexpected resistance, a determination that defied their predictions.
Facing this pack of supernatural predators, the old man took a step forward.Without a word.Without hesitation.Without the slightest tremor.
His gaunt silhouette detached from the group like a blade slowly unsheathing itself deliberate, inevitable, destined for blood.
Mordred and Kael stayed back, watching with a mix of fascination and disbelief as the spectacle unfolded before them.The old man, whose bare feet barely seemed to graze the crystallized sand of the arena, advanced towards the Vhulks with the serenity of a pilgrim approaching his sanctuary.
The creatures, momentarily thrown off by this voluntary approach, hesitated their collective consciousness processing this behavioral anomaly.
Then, as one, they attacked.
A tentacle lashed out, its trajectory perfectly calculated to slice through the old man’s throat.
What followed defied human comprehension.
The old man spun on himself with a fluidity that seemed to deny the fundamental laws of physics his entire body whirling like a vortex of flesh and bone, letting the attack slash harmlessly through the air mere millimeters from his jugular.
The displaced air sighed through the suddenly silent arena.
A second tentacle plummeted from above, aiming to skewer his skull.Without even glancing up, the old man slid under the strike in a roll so perfectly executed that he seemed to dissolve and reform a meter away. His movements brushed the sand with the lightness of a feather, leaving only the faintest imprint behind.