"Well, what are you waiting for? Those Buffox won't kill themselves," Old Man Raito said, his voice carrying a sense of urgency that hung in the air like a charged storm. His eyes twinkled with a hint of challenge as he leaned on his staff, the lines on his aged face etched with a wry grin.
Seth, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, couldn't help but smile in response. Gripping his sword firmly, he began to move, a blur of motion in the dusty arena. With a fluid, sweeping motion, he swung his blade vertically in a full 360-degree arc at his side. It was a display of confidence, a declaration of intent.
"My turn," Seth murmured, his words barely audible over the rustling of the wind and the distant growls of the approaching Buffox. He surged forward, propelled by a surge of energy that seemed boundless. His figure became a flickering specter on the battlefield, appearing and vanishing with every heartbeat.
