An arrow of pure mana streaked from the fog.
It wasn't aimed at only him. Just behind the arrow aimed at Michael was another one.
Michael's instincts howled. Even with [Iron Skin] active, his body tensed in a way he couldn't ignore.
This arrow was far more lethal than ordinary projectile. His gut screamed that to take it head-on would be fatal.
Rage sparked in his chest too.
Fisherman.
Someone had waited, biding their time in the mist, letting him do the hard work before striking.
But it seemed the heavens still favored him.
Michael twisted, body snapping to the side with [Ghostwind Steps]. The arrow grazed his shoulder as he barely dodged.
The mage was not so lucky.
Though he tried to replicate Michael's movement in his own way, the arrow tore into his right side as his arm was consumed, the limb vanishing into glowing particles.
Michael didn't lose sight of what mattered.
There was a reason he fought so hard this time.
