Climactic or Anticlimactic?

As the ballistas fired, Tyr responded with a laugh, deep and thunderous like distant thunder rolling across a still sky.

With a single fluid motion, he lifted his moonlight-forged sword, spun on his heel, and unleashed a sweeping arc so precise and powerful, the entire magical barrage was shattered mid-air, scattering like droplets in a storm.

Cynthia didn't falter. She glided backward across the water, her steps whisper-light as if skating on ice, leaving ripples that glowed faintly under the moonlight.

As she moved, she carved arcs of glowing magic into the air, elegant circular strokes that shimmered before firing jets of pressurized water toward Tyr with a hiss of compressed force.

"Keep up!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the mist like a challenge hurled across a battlefield.