Arsh stood at the same place, his hands crossed with an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He shook his head in distress slowly, as the red flames snuffed out of his hand, leaving only the broken scraps of metal behind.
The shattered blade scattered away in different directions and fell to the soil of the arena, creating a loud thud sound. However, after the stunt, Arsh just pulled on the red-haired kid now. The spectators' crowd was silent, and by the silence, he meant jaw-dropping silence. Letting the sound of sonorous metal echo through the fairly large arena.
Their eyes traveled between the red hair and Arsh a few times in between, trying to make sense of the unbelievable scenario in front of them. The kid of one of the most powerful families of the southern continent was struggling to fight against someone without even a name.
