Kalderan staggered back slightly, his left hand pressed firmly against the gaping wound Mordred's black katana had opened in his belly. He could clearly feel his blood flowing at an alarming rate, hot and sticky between his fingers. The warrior clenched his teeth violently, fighting the pain that pulsed intensely through his entire body.
He knew he didn't have much time. The wound was deep and, without immediate intervention, would be fatal.
- Cursed human... he muttered with rage and pain, giving Mordred a look of pure hatred tinged with a fear he stubbornly refused to admit.
Kalderan had never excelled in the art of mana. Unlike other Colosseum fighters, he preferred to rely on his brute strength and relentless fighting technique. To him, mana was a weakness, an unstable resource that only cowards or the weak could rely on as a last resort.
But this time, he had no choice. He had to act fast, and only mana could save his life right now.
