The bandit leader's slash cut through the air, whistling as it came down towards Jonan.
He dodged the initial blow by turning in mid-air, but the rest of the attack came in more quickly than he could. His quick reflexes couldn't cope with the relentless blows of the bandit leader.
Pain seared through him as Shakaan's invisible sword attack grazed his arms and legs, leaving thin lines of crimson blood. His clothes were in tatters, his breath came in ragged gasps, and blood dripped steadily onto the ground, giving him a bloody apperance.
Yet, Jonan's resolve did not waver. He gritted his teeth, and his eyes were locked onto Shakaan, analyzing every movement of his. He just had to get closer to him, as he needed only one solid strike to turn the tide.
Shakaan, too, was feeling the effects of their prolonged battle, his muscles were sore from wielding his aura too frequently for attacks, and he hadn't even landed a proper hit on Jonan, which could turn deadly for him.
Though he was in charge, he hadn't anticipated that Jonan would last this long. He released a harsh breath, annoyance creeping into his gaze. "This boy. he's obstinate, but however it is, I will end it now."
A cruel grin spread across Shakaan's face as he adjusted his stance, stopping his attacks, and preparing for a feint. He could see Jonan's determination and his desire to close the distance between them, and he would let him come closer, just enough for him to finish him with a surprise attack.
Jonan took a deep breath, steadying himself. His mind raced, recalling the techniques he had trained so hard to perfect, Mirage of the Forgotten Path, his first Battle Art.
He had only mastered the first step, but it would be enough. He needed it to evade Shakaan's deadly sharp slashes at close quarters also while deploying his strategic mind in the mix, with his break through in intelligence attribute, he could effortlessly map out a plan to attack Shakaan.
Then, there was Moonlit Reverence, a technique he had not yet perfected. He clenched his fists, knowing that one decisive strike from it, would be enough to bring the bandit leader down.
As he was inching closer to Shakaan, he noticed that the bandit leader was fully covered with leather pelts and armor in some places, and to deal a single heavy blow to him, his head was the optimal choice for Jonan to attack.
The two fighters advanced together, ferocity gleaming in their eyes, and determination painted on their faces.
Shakaan charged ahead, his sword flashing through the air in a killing curve. Jonan managed to sidestep barely, his body blurring as he used Mirage of the Forgotten Path. His movements were wild, unpredictable, a ghost flitting between the killing blows.
Shakaan's attacks, though powerful, met nothing but air as Jonan weaved through them.
The battle had escalated into a whirlwind of motion. The sounds of grunts and rapid footsteps echoed in the forest. Jonan's body ached from the wounds he had sustained, but he refused to slow down. He was waiting for the perfect moment, the single opening that would decide the fight.
Shakaan, growing more frustrated, swung harder, putting all his strength into a downward slash. Jonan ducked just in time, feeling the wind of the blade rush past his head.
Now! he thought.
Gathering every ounce of strength he had left, he launched himself upward, twisting his body mid-air. His leg snapped out, his movements fluid and powerful, resembling the intricate motions of the Moonlit Reverence . His foot connected with Shakaan's chin in a devastating kick.
A nauseating crack rang out across the battlefield.
Shakaan's eyes bulged in horror as his head jerked back with a harsh motion. His balance was broken, his hand on his sword relaxing as he stumbled. His knees gave way, and before he could struggle, he collapsed to the ground, utterly confused.
For one moment, silence lay across the battlefield.
Then, pandemonium broke out.
One of the robbers, seeing their captain fall, responded immediately. With quick reflexes, he pulled out an arrow and shot straight at Jonan. The arrow pierced the air, whizzing towards him.
Before it could hit him, a second arrow crossed its path in mid-air. The two arrows met and crashed to the ground harmlessly.
Marla balanced on a jagged boulder, her raised bow still braced, hawke-eyed. "Try harder than this," she said softly, even as she readied another arrow.
Jonan's eyes glazed, fatigue catching up with him at last. His body buckled, limbs seeming to weigh a thousand kilograms. But his eyes caught just a glimpse of his companion edging out from the darkness before he fell.
Edric stormed onto the battlefield, his dual axes gleaming in the dim light. With a mighty roar, he brought them down upon the nearest bandit, cutting through them like paper.
Blood sprayed on the ground as the man fell lifelessly to the ground.
Elias moved like a shadow, his hidden weapons glinting as he struck from the darkness. Daggers found their marks in the throats and chests of their enemies, dropping them before they even realized what had happened. His efficiency was terrifying, a ghostly reaper among men.
Marla continued to rain arrows upon the remaining bandits, each shot precisely to kill each one of them mercilessly. Panic spread through the enemy ranks as their comrades fell one by one.
The battle had turned against them in an instant.
Jonan, barely conscious, managed a weak smile. His vision darkened, the world spinning as he finally let his body give in to exhaustion. As he fell, he saw the last of the bandits either slain or fleeing, members of his cohort were standing victorious.
Darkness consumed him, but he was relaxed that finally his cohort had come out to help him, and he felt pride in defeating someone like Shakaan, who was way above him in power, if it wasn't for his mastery in dexterity, he would have lost miserably.
Meanwhile, Shakaan just had attacking power, nothing else, which was also one more advantage Jonan had.