Athanasius Mors was getting tired of being smacked around by a giant skeleton-bear.
He was running low on mana. It was hard to think. It was hard to breathe.
Broken ribs, maybe.
It was the hardest he'd ever been pushed since being reborn.
The whole ordeal annoyed the shite out of him.
His two opponents were a blind man hiding in a cage and a coward who was only good at flying around the arena. They weren't even Gold-Rank.
He and Zenon weren't outclassed or outskilled... They just had that stupid shadow barrier...
Maybe he should have paid attention when Tycon deconstructed that seal in the mountains... Or not. That was that guy's specialty-- and it wasn't even especially good.
Tanamar would stick to his own skills.
Like timing.
