Finally, after what felt like endless steps, the golems slowed, giving Zeon the precious few seconds he needed. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his hands tensing as he clenched them tightly. His gaze fell on his hands, eyes narrowing with determination. This... this will do.
A faint shimmer ran along his palms as the daggers materialized once again, spinning into his grip with deadly precision. He exhaled slowly, suppressing the tremor in his body, his eyes scanning the advancing golems.
"I'm going to go carefully this time," he muttered under his breath, voice low but resolute. Every nerve in his body screamed with the urgency of the moment, yet a cold focus settled over him. The golems were still relentless, but Zeon was ready—every step, every strike would be calculated.
The air around him hummed with tension as he prepared to strike, the oppressive weight of the barrier and the looming threat of the golems pressing against him like a living force.
