The tiny arcs of energy snaked through the air, their movents unpredictable yet srizing. They flickered and shimred, casting fleeting shadows on the charred remains of the surrounding landscape. The lingering crackles echoed like a chorus of miniature thunder, punctuating the aftermath of the devastating explosion.
"How about another?" Vangel suddenly appeared while floating in the air, feeling good that their positions had changed.
"That is the best idea, I have heard today," Aion said while smiling. "Let's go, fire it again. This ti, I will take it like a champ."
Vangel furrowed his brow, his gaze narrowing as he observed Aion. Despite the battered state of Aion's body, the wounds that marred his form, and the remnants of lted armor clinging to his being, his eyes had an absolute determination. It was a resolve that seed to defy logic, pushing him to endure despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him.
Vangel couldn't help but feel a sense of skepticism creeping into his thoughts. Aion's defiant stance and unwavering deanor seed almost too audacious, given the dire state of his physical being. It appeared as though he was putting up a front, masking his true pain and exhaustion with a facade of strength.
"All right, and for my next trick… I will make you regret using the mana cannon again," Aion said while grinning.
Vangel studied Aion again with suspicious eyes; it was clearly a buff. Nothing could stop an attack of that level. Despite that, he didn't like the glint in Aion's eyes… he was truly plotting sothing.
Still, that didn't stop Vangel from pointing his hands at Aion again… if Aion was planning sothing, then he wanted to see and learn from it… as usual.
When Vangel used Mana Cannon, Aion quickly called his unknown armor from his inventory and then equipped it… the armor that Arlana had forged, and he took the hit directly.
The blast of mana left another path of destruction and then pushed Aion easily, but then Vangel saw Aion suddenly stopping two kiloters away. Sothing was off…
"That armor is… but even if he is recovering his mana…" Vangel thought and then saw Aion's skin burning to a crisp.
Vangel's victory was pretty much decided, but he didn't drop his guard, not against the Cursed king of the ti, who only lost a single ti, or perhaps two tis, against his group and the enemies from beyond the planet.
All of a sudden, Vangel felt a shiver, and then he felt a weird sound. The sound of sothing rubber-like being pushed beyond its limits… Before long, he understood what Aion did… he ripped space-ti and forcefully opened a portal to his pocket dinsion.
Taking the hit directly again, equipping the armor, stopping at that area… everything had been a necessary step for that to happen. Aion used the armor to absorb so mana and to have a link between him and the prisoners that he was looking for. He took the hit directly to get the mana because Vangel wouldn't be able to stop it once he started, and he stopped two kiloters away because that was the limit of Vangel's pocket dinsion where he sealed those three.
When Vangel stopped the attack and then entered his pocket dinsion, he saw Aion on the ground. He looked like a mix of a rag and a corpse… and the prisoners were nowhere to be found.
"You got … I was certain that you couldn't bend space-ti like that yet," Vangel said.
Aion ignored that; he was too tired, and his body hurt like hell. Moreover, he felt a surge of relief when he found those three just unconscious… he confird that their condition was fine and they were just under a serious sleep spell.
"Are you relieved now?" Vangel asked, without looking unfazed at all.
Aion got up and looked at him while ignoring his exhaustion and pain. Sothing was off… the enemy was too relaxed, even though Aion had no more reason to hold back.
"It wasn't a sleeping spell… they were unconscious because… you took their souls," Aion suddenly said.
"Your assumptions always hit the mark; I am astonished," Vangel said. "I stored their souls in another era, knowing that this might happen sohow and there is only one way to find out where they are."
Aion lets out a sigh… he was so fucking done with Vangel already. Aion's frustration boiled within him, fueled by the weariness of battling against Vangel's elusive tactics. He was sick and tired of the constant gas and sches, the manipulations and duplications that seed to define Vangel's approach. Aion had grown weary of his adversary's reliance on imitation rather than showcasing his own unique abilities.
The thought gnawed at Aion's core, for he knew that true strength ca from within, from honing one's own skills and forging a path that was distinct and authentic. Yet, Vangel seed content to hide behind his facades and mimic the techniques of others, never truly showing his own capabilities.
Aion's frustration grew with each passing mont. He longed for a genuine battle, one where he could face an opponent who fought with their own strength and skill, not one who constantly relied on borrowed tactics and copied techniques.
"I guess it is ti; the ga is over," Aion said when he got up completely and looked at Vangel.
Vangel's composure wavered ever so slightly as he sensed a shift in Aion's deanor. The flicker of determination in Aion's eyes, the resolute set of his jaw, and the weight of weariness transford into unwavering resolve. Vangel couldn't help but flinch inwardly, realizing that Aion was about to face him with unwavering seriousness.
Gone were the façade of indifference and the air of superiority that Vangel had grown accustod to projecting. Aion's resolve pierced through Vangel's defenses, laying bare the truth that he could no longer rely on his usual tactics to deflect and deceive. Aion was no longer willing to entertain Vangel's tricks and subterfuge.
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