"If anything…" he said, eyes narrowing, "you should worry about yourself."
Sylva's smile flattened. "Trying to fight me in hand to hand combat? How useless." She sighed, almost disappointed. "Well then… time for you to sleep."
Her finger snapped.
The air exploded.
The instant her hand moved, the hovering arsenal obeyed hundreds of elemental projectiles screamed toward him in a single overwhelming wave. The sound barrier cracked, the pressure alone enough to make the air tremble.
Razeal's grin widened.
This was nothing.
He had trained under the simultaneous assault of tens of thousands of fighters, all of them at A-rank or higher, each one striking with their full skill. He had endured far worse storms than this, and he had done so for decades in the relentless, timeless grind of the training space. This just a few hundred attacks at once was almost leisurely in comparison.
His stance shifted.
Sound Flow.
