Conclave of Martial Artist

As the remaining champions took a moment to recover, Anthony sat beneath the shade of a parasol, leisurely observing their every move.

His demeanor remained calm, almost indifferent, with not a single trace of caution in his piercing gaze.

He watched as they skillfully drew mana from the air, channeling it into their cores with a precision that bordered on mastery.

Their speed was nothing short of remarkable, the ambient energy bending to their will as though it were a natural extension of their bodies.

None bore any visible injuries requiring attention; instead, their focus remained on replenishing their depleted mana and stamina reserves.

Yet, curiously, they refrained from fully restoring themselves.

Each champion stopped just shy of reaching their peak, maintaining a razor-thin margin.