A Trick

Max stood up, rubbing the dust from his clothes. His body was untouched, his skin unscathed, but his expression was serious.

Because once again—he had been hit without seeing the attack.

It was just like before.

A gust of wind.

No trace of Evan.

No form. No figure.

Just the wind.

'Why…? Why do I only see wind before I'm hit?' Max thought, his eyes narrowing. His mind raced, analyzing every moment of the battle.

Wind.

Not a person. Not a blade. Just air itself.

Evan stood tall, his eyes calm but unwavering. "You should give up," he said, his voice steady, unshaken. "You are no match against me."

Max, however, only chuckled. "I wouldn't be that arrogant," he replied, a smirk playing at his lips. "Not when you can't even put a scratch on my skin."

CRACK!

Purple lightning erupted around Max, wild and untamed. But then—

It condensed.