The string hummed softly as it released, and the arrow flew straight, slicing through the sunlight, embedding itself dead center in the bullseye. There was no hesitation, no wobble, no hint of doubt. The third arrow was drawn and loosed with the same effortless precision, hitting the exact same mark as the previous two.
Then came the fourth, fifth, sixth, each arrow sailing through the air with a whisper of wind, each striking perfectly in succession. The rhythm was hypnotic, mesmerizing. It was no longer just archery; it was a display of absolute control, a symphony of precision and focus.
The students in the stands could scarcely breathe. Those who had whispered doubts moments before were now frozen, eyes wide, jaws slack, unable to comprehend the spectacle before them. Some clasped their hands over their mouths, muttering prayers or exclamations under their breath.
