Fragile Victory

In a sudden flash, the room transformed into an eerie red and black space, its luminous walls casting an unsettling glow. Shaheer found himself in a territory that disregarded all his buffs, leaving him vulnerable and uncertain. As the atmosphere charged with tension, Hasan wasted no time and lunged forward, his fist hurtling towards Shaheer's head.

Reacting swiftly, Shaheer shifted his body to the left, narrowly evading the incoming blow. The air crackled with the energy of their clash, the sound of their movements echoing through the chamber. Capitalizing on the moment, he swiftly retaliated with a punch aimed straight at Hasan's face, the impact resounding with a satisfying thud. However, a chilling sensation ran down Shaheer's spine, a warning that he had fallen into a trap. Trusting his instincts, he instantly shifted his weight and propelled himself backward, narrowly dodging a swift sword slash aimed at his previous position.

Shaheer's face assumed a calm expression as he composed himself, taking in the peculiar situation that had unfolded before him. His gaze fell upon Hasan, who stood in anticipation with an excited gleam in his eyes, the broad sword resting casually on his shoulder.

"Shaheer," Hasan called out, his voice carrying a surprising sincerity amidst the tension. "I offer you this chance, this brief respite. Draw your weapon."

Without exchanging a word, Shaheer understood that trusting Hasan's offer to retrieve his weapon would be naive. Instead, thoughts raced through Shaheer's mind, pondering the source of this mysterious weapon and devising a plan to turn the tides. Realizing he didn't have a physical weapon to draw, a glimmer of hope flickered in Shaheer's eyes. He had an idea—an ability he had learned to control in his previous encounters. The concept of manifesting a weapon out of mana surged within him.

His hands slowly gravitated towards his waist, mimicking the motion of unsheathing a sword. The action was purely symbolic, a visual cue to align his concentration. His gaze remained fixed on Hasan, ensuring he didn't miss any movements.

As uncertainty lingered, Shaheer's body began to emit a soft green glow, signifying the activation of his qi. The surge of mana empowered him, granting a heightened state for the forthcoming battle. The room seemed to respond, crackling with energy.

Concentrating his mana, a mist of vibrant blue began swirling around Shaheer's glowing palm. Guiding the energy with precision, he directed it towards his hand, where the mist condensed and gradually took the form of a slender, agile sword. The blade shimmered with an ethereal blue hue, exuding untapped potential and crackling with faint sparks of mana. The room filled with the faint scent of ozone, a tangible indication of the energy that enveloped the air.

With a resolute motion, Shaheer completed the symbolic unsheathing, revealing the mana-infused sword he had conjured. The blade radiated a soft, otherworldly glow, casting subtle shadows on the chamber walls. Its weight felt familiar, as if it were an extension of Shaheer's own determination and will.

Hasan stood before him, patiently waiting, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Hmm, this is new," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. His words hung in the air as a challenge and an invitation.

In response, Shaheer tightened his grip on the hilt, a flicker of determination crossing his face. With measured steps, he advanced, his sword clashing against Hasan's in a symphony of sparks and steel. Each clash sent vibrations reverberating through Shaheer's arms, filling the air with the metallic symphony of their duel. The room itself seemed to tremble in response to their clash, as if it bore witness to their struggle.

Ding!

A skill has been created.

The clashes intensified, and Shaheer could feel the mounting pressure of Hasan's sword. It was as if his opponent's strength grew with each passing moment, the weight of the battle bearing down on him. Shaheer's mind raced, searching for an opening, a weakness to exploit.

Just as Shaheer began to adjust to Hasan's style, glimpses of a potential advantage emerged from the ebb and flow of their exchanges. Yet, before he could seize the opportunity, the pressure intensified, momentarily pushing Shaheer back. They separated, creating a momentary respite in the battle.

A wry smile tugged at Shaheer's lips as he spoke, his voice laced with a carefree tone. "Why don't you go all out from the start, so we can end this quickly?" Shaheer's carefree expression mirrored Hasan's earlier pose, his sword hanging casually on his shoulder.

A grin spread across Hasan's face as he responded, his tone filled with amusement, "I'm afraid you wouldn't last a mere few seconds if I did that. Well, I suppose this will suffice. I now have a rough understanding of where you stand." With those words, Hasan's sword vanished into thin air, leaving him unarmed.

This was the opening Shaheer had been waiting for. Seizing the opportunity, he poured all his strength into his feet, propelling himself forward in a lightning-quick slash aimed at Hasan's neck. The movement was swift and precise, the blade of his sword arcing down towards its intended target.

To Shaheer's bewilderment, his blade met no resistance. It felt as if he had swung his sword through thin air. Confusion clouded his mind as he stared at the space where Hasan's neck should have been. Before he could comprehend what had transpired, a searing pain coursed through his own neck, a sword piercing through it with alarming swiftness.

Shaheer's eyes widened in shock as he beheld the red line etched across his neck where the sword had passed through. Something extraordinary unfolded before his eyes—an HP bar materialized in his vision, plummeting rapidly. The bar came to an abrupt halt at a mere 2 percent, leaving Shaheer teetering on the brink of defeat.

A mixture of disbelief and realization washed over him. Hasan's final strike had bypassed his defenses, leaving him in a dire state. The pain intensified, and a sense of urgency flooded Shaheer's senses. He struggled to maintain his footing, grappling with the reality that victory had eluded him in this encounter.