s it the sun that eats the dragon or the dragon that eats the sun…?
In the midst of the arena, the tension was palpable. The sky above shimmered with an almost oppressive brilliance, yet beneath that radiant façade, danger lurked. Sun Devil, the infamous marksman and celestial embodiment of hawk-like precision, notched an arrow. His hand moved with inhuman speed, drawing back the string in a flash that seemed to tear through the air itself.
The surrounding atmosphere rippled, a visible distortion caused by the sheer velocity of his movement. Time seemed to slow for those watching, but for Sun Devil, it was as natural as breathing—a practiced, effortless motion.
Twang!
The bowstring snapped taut, releasing a arrow streaking through the arena like a comet seeking its final destination. Its flash of light abstracted against the backdrop of an electric sky. The spectators' cheers and screams faded into the background as the focused eye of battle observed the dart's trajectory.
