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It hit him dead-on, with the audience looking away, not wanting to see their prince reduced to a pile of melted bones, but though steam and smoke filled the air around Seraph, he was unharmed, albeit soaked. His aura had protected him, undoing the magic enhancement on the water, so when it hit him, it was chemically inert. The moment the blast ended, Seraph dropped his defenses, gasping for air from fatigue. What he would give to be even half as powerful as he was a year ago. He didn’t have time to rest, as Phune immediately commenced another attack. A continuous jet of water slammed against his raised palms and clashed with the light aura before him. Every loose drop hitting the ground smoked from the acidic burn, a reminder of what would happen if his strength or focus faltered for even a second.

Outside, Roc was engaged in the opening battle of the day, fighting against a talented warrior who could use both shield and sword magic. Again and again, he pounced on his foe, trying to smash through his defenses with powerful kicks and punches. However, even while his limbs were wrapped in mana, he could not break through the glowing tower shield the man wielded. With every attack that failed to break through, his enemy would counter with a slash, able to swing his sword with more speed and force than an average warrior could ever hope to achieve. Roc relied on his wings to pull him in and out of danger, but they were all that was keeping him alive, and he was left bloody from numerous close calls.

Cyrilo flashed a wry smile. “All the low-rank fighters have been purged, so now the real show will begin. Besides, with this tournament going on, I barely get any customers during the day, so I might as well close up and go see what all the fuss is about.”“Man, this is so cool,” said Daniel. “I feel like I’m in ancient Rome. All we need is a few lions and some Christians to feed to them.”