Revy's third persona faced the colossal sand creature that Ashir had summoned, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the fight. The creature roared, its sandy maw gaping wide, revealing a swirling vortex of desert fury. The Red Abyss trembled in his hand, eager for the challenge ahead.
With a battle cry that seemed to shake the very air, Revy charged the sand monster, his blade slicing through the air. The creature's eyes narrowed, and it swiped a massive arm at him. Revy dodged with an agility that belied the weight of his armor, his sword carving a crimson arc through the creature's side. Sand spilled from the wound like a river of despair, yet the monster did not falter.
The third persona's eyes grew colder as the fight dragged on, each strike of the Red Abyss a silent declaration of his intent to free the prince and the dragon. The creature roared, raising its fists to crush him. Bibi and Sera watched from the sidelines, their hearts in their throats. They knew that if Revy fell here, their chances of escape would be as fleeting as the mirage on the desert horizon.
Elir, the dragon at his side, whispered words of encouragement, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. The dragon's eyes were filled with a fierce loyalty, a bond forged in the fires of shared adversity. The prince watched as Revy's blade danced with the deadly grace of a venomous snake, each strike a promise of freedom from the colosseum's tyranny.
The sand creature roared again, and its form grew more defined, the features of Ashir's face becoming clearer as it took on a life of its own. The gladiator, seeing his creation falter, leaped into the fray, his own twin swords a blur as he engaged the third persona of Revy Gray. The swords clashed in a shower of sparks, the two warriors locked in a struggle that seemed as ancient as the desert itself.
Revy's first persona, usually so shy and naive, had vanished beneath the battle's intensity. In its place was the embodiment of rage and skill, a warrior born of necessity. The third persona's movements grew more precise, his strikes more deadly. Each swing of the Red Abyss was a declaration of war against the corruption that had claimed this land.
Ashir watched in horror as the sand creature he had conjured began to falter. The spells he had cast to bolster its power were unraveling before his very eyes. He had never seen anything like it. The shy, bespectacled young man was somehow neutralizing his magic, reducing it to mere dust on the wind. His own swords felt heavy and clumsy in his hands as he faced the third persona of Revy Gray.
The crowd had gone silent, their screams of excitement replaced by the stifled whispers of fear. The very air in the colosseum seemed to thicken, pregnant with the tension of the moment. The third persona's eyes locked onto Ashir, and the Red Abyss sang a tune of doom as it streaked through the air. The sand monster roared in pain and anger as the crimson blade cleaved through its form, the magic that had given it life dissipating like mist in the harsh desert sun.