Eron's spear of light struck the barrier with a resounding clang, a metallic screech slicing through the air. He gritted his teeth, gripping the weapon tighter with both hands as he injected more of his faith energy into it. But there was no crack, no weakness. The barrier didn't even flinch.
"Give up, child," the middle-aged man said with a mocking grin, his black staff spinning effortlessly in the air.
"Flame Arrow."
"Flame Sword."
In an instant, a three-meter-long flaming sword hovered beside him, forming a circular formation. Above his head, a massive flaming arrow took shape, its tip trembling slightly—a clear sign of the destructive power it was holding back.
Huff...
Eron took a heavy breath. His body wavered, his breathing ragged. His faith energy was nearly depleted, and his body had reached its limit. He watched as the flaming arrow shot toward him—fast, sharp, and deadly.
"I have to fall back…" he whispered in his mind.
