With every sinew strained and his focus razor-sharp, Ivan tracked the speeding arrow's trajectory, his gaze locked onto its deadly path.
Using his lightning reflexes, he thrust the risen stake into the arrow's path, a desperate attempt to ward off impending doom.
As the arrow collided with the sturdy stake, a shockwave reverberated through his arms, jolting him with a raw surge of power.
The impact sent him reeling backward, his upper body contorting as he fought to maintain his balance against the relentless force.
Driven back by the relentless momentum, Ivan staggered nearly a meter before digging deep within himself, channeling his very essence into his feet.
With a surge of mana, he rooted himself firmly into the earth, assuming a stance reminiscent of a formidable sumo wrestler, hands poised just above his chest in a defensive posture.
A tumult of emotions flickered across his face as he beheld the grim sight before him: the arrow, despite his efforts, had not only breached the defenses of the stout wooden stake but had also come perilously close to piercing through his very being.
Sweat beaded upon his brow as he braced himself for the impending clash, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion.
What the hell did that and where the hell did it come from?
Ivan had no time to think as the sounds of two more arrows slicing through the air enveloping his senses. Without thought Ivan tossed the already damaged stake in the path of the two coming his way.
Like its predecessors, the two incoming arrows found their mark at the ends of the already weakened stake, the wood groaning under the immense pressure as it bore the brunt of the relentless assault.
In a split-second decision, Ivan hurled the compromised stake towards its intended target, his muscles coiled with tense anticipation as he prepared to make a break for safety behind the protective cover of a nearby tree, a mere meter away.
With a forceful push from his left foot, Ivan propelled himself forward, his body instinctively angling towards the shelter of the awaiting tree. Yet, in the chaotic frenzy of motion, an unseen third projectile hurtled through the air with deadly precision, cleaving the splintered stake in twain with ruthless efficiency.
In the midst of his desperate flight, Ivan found himself frozen in a moment of paralyzing realization, his senses catching the imminent threat hurling towards him with lethal intent but his body unable to act against the arrow that was faster than a speeding bullet.
As the deadly arrow raced towards its mark, time seemed to stand still, each passing milli second stretching into an eternity of impending doom.
By the grace of the gods the arrow missed its mark by mere centimeters, only leaving a cut to the bottom of his foot. If he made that decision any slower he would have found an arrow straight through his ankle.
Ivans body landed on the ground in a curled position right behind the tree. He quickly braced his back against and pushed himself up into a crouching position, his heart racing.
Ivan's gaze darted to his right, tracing the path of the arrow embedded in the earth, tendrils of vaporous steam billowing from beneath where its tip had plunged into the soil, trailing all the way to the arrow's fletching. Each wisp seemed to whisper a warning, hinting at the heat that lay beneath the surface.
His chest tightened, fingers clenching instinctively against his chest, right where his heart was as he struggled to regulate his breathing, seeking solace in the rhythmic intake of air.
The assailant remained a phantom, their identity shrouded in mystery, their motives obscured by the veil of uncertainty.
The arrow, with its crude yet calculated design, hinted at a mind behind the attack—a creature of discernible intelligence, perhaps even monstrous in nature.
Ivan's mind raced, cataloging the creatures of lore, weighing the possibilities of their origin and intent.
Memories of childhood tales, spun by his parents in moments of whimsy, flooded his thoughts.
Stories of dungeons and beasts, of heroes and villains, whispered secrets of a world beyond his own. Goblins, with their manic fervor and primitive weaponry, danced in his mind's eye, their green visages contorted in malicious glee.
And then there were the Ogres, towering and brutish, their pale skin adorned with crude markings, reminiscent of war paint. But even in their tales, none possessed the finesse displayed by this unseen assailant, none wielded the bow with such deadly precision.
In the recesses of his mind, Ivan knew of beings of unparalleled power held within the prison, akin to gods like Aria in their might.
Yet even they, in their vast dominion, lacked the subtlety and precision of this unseen archer.
Before he could dwell further on his musings, a second arrow shattered his reverie, piercing through the wooden barrier above him, dangling ominously just beyond reach in his current crouching position.
With that second close call Ivan left the confines of his hiding place and darted off.
His body enhanced by mana, Ivan dashed forth attempting to run instead of confronting his adversary.
With incredible agility he ran through the forest, occasionally dipping behind a tree and dipping out to make it difficult for the archer to shoot accurately.
As he ran he noticed rustling atop the tree tops that lingered behind him. It had seemed that his attacker was tailgating him.
Another arrow was shot at Ivan, like the others slicing through the air and endlessly spiraling. As it spiraled in the air two others appeared alongside it made purely of the air itself.
With the physical abilities strengthened by his mana Ivan was able to react quickly and once more narrowly avoid the arrow gunning for him.
By reaching out and gripping on a branch before him Ivan was able to pull his upper body up and straighten his lower body angling at such a degree the arrow hit the ground instead of its intended target, two holes left beside the arrow indented into the ground.
Swinging back and forth, Ivan catapulted himself upward, landing on the body of a thick branch beginning his shift in traversal from the ground to the trees.
Leaping from branch to branch like a wild ape, Ivan continued to narrowly dodge attack after attack. How long could he keep this up??
Well not long infact as one of these precise arrows finally hit their moving target.
As Ivan evaded yet another barrage of arrows, a sense of déjà vu accompanied each narrowly avoided projectile. But this time, something felt different.
As he agilely maneuvered through the dense forest, a sudden sharp pain erupted from his shoulder.
With a gasp, he realized that this arrow was unlike the others – it wasn't content to merely graze him.
The arrow, propelled with uncanny accuracy, found its mark, burying itself deep into Ivan's shoulder.
Its trajectory defied expectation, curving with sinister intent as Ivan leapt from his precarious perch among the branches. The arrowhead tore through flesh and bone, its cruel tip emerging on the other side with chilling finality.
The sudden impact shattered Ivan's balance, sending him tumbling through the air.
His body endlessly collided with the trees extended hands below, pain searing in each affected body part before he crashed against the soft bladed carpet on the ground.
In that moment upon landing the arrow was completely pushed through, most of it peering out on the side of his chest.
Ivan shouted in agony, the sharp pain brutal to his body.
He gritted his teeth, the taste of blood filling his mouth as he clamped down on his bottom lip. With a grim determination, he reached for the arrow embedded in his flesh, feeling the steam of the arrow almost embedded into his flesh.
With a sharp intake of breath, he tore it out with a swift motion, his muscles protesting against the agony coursing through his body, the pain more excruciating than before.
Ivan tossed the arrow to the side before clamping his hand on the open wound leaking blood. The pain was immeasurable so much that it forced tears out of his eyes.
He was not given a second to rest as his attacker left from the treetops with a blade held above their head that slowly came down as they descended.
Ivan's desperate maneuver sent a jolt of agony through his injured shoulder as he hastily lurched to the right, his muscles protesting with each roll. The wound, already a source of searing pain, erupted anew, blood spurting forth that painted a path on the ground where he had rolled.
By moving the attack missed its target, the blade instead crashing against the ground sending dusty debris in the air.
Ivan got up off the ground, dust and blood staining his uncovered body, his attention shifting to where his attacker landed.
Now that they were out the shadows of the tree tops Ivan could properly view them.
As the swirling dust settled, a mysterious figure emerged, their presence shrouded by a hooded cloak.
Beneath the verdant cowl, their eyes remained hidden, mirroring the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above.
The cloak, a tapestry of vibrant green hues, enveloped their form, contrasting sharply with the glint of iron armor beneath.
Each piece, from the sturdy chestplate to the intricately wrought shoulder and elbow guards, spoke of battles waged and victories won.
Amidst this armor, hints of a simple white garment peeked out, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of their outer attire.
On their lower half they wore a similar iron fauld blending in with chestplate above it, chainmail legging with streaks of green that stretched way below their thighs that was completed by a pair of iron boots glimmering in the sunlight.
``WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT``; Ivan shouted out, his face demonstrating his anger, his voice demonstrating his fear.
The figure did not reply and instead marched forth, their weapon housing a blade curved in a crescent angle spinning in their right hand, over and over.
The sounds of its cutting through the air played a horrific melody that instilled fear deeper in his heart.
This person bore no stance but from the aura resonating of them as they walked spoke louder than words themself.