The bandit leader's face twisted with rage, spittle flying from his lips. "Archers.... FIRE!" he roared, his voice breaking in frantic desperation.
Ten bows snapped in unison. The hiss of arrows split the air, a deadly storm streaking toward the masked figure.
But Zeon didn't move.
He stood tall, daggers spinning casually in his hands, as though he were merely waiting for something amusing. Then.... in the blink of an eye, one dagger flicked upward. Metal clashed against wood and iron with sharp, ringing bursts. Clang! Clang! Clang!
Arrows shattered and fell uselessly to the dirt. His blade moved faster than the eye could follow, the swiftness so clean that not a single shot passed him. Dust kicked up around his boots, caught in the sunlight, while his mask tilted lazily as if he had barely lifted a finger.
