Allen's spear was like a child wielding a mere kitchen knife against a true god of war—an emblem of savagery attempting to pierce divine defense.
"Ethan, watch your moves!" Allen bellowed as he charged like a cannonball, the spear dragging the ground and sparking bright flashes like lightning bolts.
The distance closed rapidly, ten feet, five feet, his figure condensed into a whirlwind of deadly intent.
Abruptly, Allen raised his arms, and with a swift reversal, flipped the spear behind him and caught it in front of his chest. He slashed downward fiercely.
The spear was a force of nature—engulfed in rolling flame spiritual power, it pressed like a volcanic avalanche towards Ethan.
Calm and unflustered, Ethan's eyes fixed on the incoming assault, and with a flick of his body, he slid sideways.
Allen's spear struck the ground with a violent impact, gouging a deep hole where it landed.
