Half an hour passed, yet not a single person managed to land even one hit on Derek. He moved between the fireballs like water slipping through fingers, danced around the wind blades, and weaved past the ice bullets with effortless grace. Even Art had joined the fray, though his attacks barely counted. After all, he hadn't even reached F-class yet.
Eventually, Henry reached the limit of his patience.
"Come on, Derek! Stop being so damn slippery and attack a little, will you?" he shouted in frustration.
"Yeah!" Emma chimed in. "You've been dodging nonstop from the start!"
"You want this spar to end quickly?" Derek asked casually, still bouncing around like a grasshopper.
Eva let out a low chuckle, launching more ice bullets as she spoke. "My junior sure is cocky."
"If we lose, then we lose. But at least attack! Right now, it feels like we're fighting empty air," Henry complained again.
