SWISH—!
The woman across from Feylora was starting to crack.
Her face had gone pale, fingers trembling as she forced the bowstring back again.
Blue energy whipped around her like a cyclone, gathering into another arrow—but her momentum was faltering.
Her aura, once overwhelming, was now clearly being pushed down.
And Feylora kept advancing.
Her breaths came fast, shoulders trembling from the strain, but she didn't back off an inch.
SWISH—!
SWISH—!
Gold and blue arrows clashed again and again in the sky, each collision like a thunderclap that made the very air shudder.
Every shot Feylora loosed drained her, nearly wringing her dry.
Her golden hair streamed behind her like a banner in the storm, and in her eyes burned not calculation, but conviction.
Even if it cost her everything—
She would hold this battlefield for her master.
BOOM—!
Another pair of arrows collided.
The sky flipped.
The entire desert trembled as a wave of searing heat rolled across the horizon.
