Amukelo was surrounded by ten statues, each programmed to mimic the movements and strategy of a seasoned warrior, Amukelo found himself constantly on the defensive. The statues' relentless assaults required him to weave an intricate pattern of dodges and parries, each movement perfectly timed to avoid a cascade of blows from multiple directions.
Amukelo's mental and physical stamina were tested as he navigated this lethal dance. He maintained a calm demeanor, his focus razor-sharp, as he searched for any opening or lapse in the statues' synchronized attacks. His opportunities to strike were few and far between, but he exploited every single one with precision. With a deft parry, he would sever a stone limb or cleave through the joint of a statue, momentarily disrupting their formation and gaining brief respites to gather his strength.
However, the challenge was monumental. Even as he disabled one statue, the others adjusted, their attacks becoming more aggressive and coordinated. Amukelo's ability to sustain his enhanced state was formidable, yet the sheer duration and intensity of the battle began to wear on him. Each maneuver, each burst of mana to power his attacks, drew heavily on his reserves.
The pivotal moment came when Amukelo, recognizing the waning of his energy yet aware of the need to decisively shift the battle's momentum, channeled his remaining strength into a spectacular move. Extending his aura to its fullest, he executed a cross-slash that ripped through space itself. The fabric of reality seemed to tear, leaving a lingering spatial rift on the battlefield. As the statues unwittingly intersected with this anomaly, they were sliced by the same force as the original strike, resulting in the destruction of two more adversaries.
Breathing heavily, Amukelo felt the intense drain from maintaining such a high level of mana manipulation. His protective coat dissipated, leaving him without the enhanced agility and speed it provided. He was forced to rely purely on his base skills and wits. The remaining statues, although fewer and damaged, continued their assault. Each movement from Amukelo was more measured now, his body aching from the prolonged exertion, yet his determination did not waver.
He dodged and weaved through the slower, clumsier attacks of the damaged statues, buying time to recover and plan his next moves. The challenge was immense, and while he could no longer sustain his enhanced state continuously, he was far from defeated. The tactical retreats and quick counterattacks showcased his growth.
As Amukelo faced the remaining statues, his eyes were alight with the fire of someone who has traversed through fire and emerged ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. His thoughts came back to what Valarian and his followers did in the cave.
An attack from the statue almost hit Amukelo, but he managed to block that, then another powerful blow came, but this time he wasn't able to dodge the attack and was sent flying till he slammed against the wall. He managed to regain his footing after being hurled backward. The impact resonated through his body, rattling his bones, but it also provided him the crucial space he needed to recalibrate and gather mana once again. His back against the wall, both literally and metaphorically, he knew this was a pivotal moment to harness his inner reserves and turn the tide of the relentless battle.
As the statues advanced once more, their movements deliberate and menacing, Amukelo focused intently, channeling his dwindling energy into the familiar process of mana accumulation. Fatigue weighed heavily on his limbs, and each breath he took was a laborious effort, the pain from potentially broken ribs piercing with every inhale. Nonetheless, he pushed these distractions to the back of his mind, concentrating on the flow of mana within him.
The process was painstakingly slow this time around, his body protesting every exertion of energy. He could feel the mana filling him only gradually, reaching approximately seventy percent of his maximum capacity, a significant reduction but still a formidable amount given the circumstances. Once he finally activated the mana coat, the battlefield dynamics shifted perceptibly. The statues, though fewer and previously damaged, appeared to move through a viscous medium, their actions visibly slowed from Amukelo's enhanced perspective.
Reinvigorated by the mana coat, albeit less potently than before, Amukelo resumed the combat with a renewed vigor. His movements, although slower than in his peak state, were precise and calculated. Each dodge was meticulously timed, and his counterattacks were executed with a clear intention, exploit every crack and wear down the statues' already compromised structural integrity.
The mana flows that trailed his swords added a visual spectacle to the fight, casting eerie shadows and brilliant streaks of light across the battleground. The black-red and green flows were not just aesthetic enhancements but were crucial elements in the effectiveness of his strikes, showing that he performed technique properly.
One by one, the statues began to crumble under his relentless assault. With each fallen adversary, Amukelo's confidence surged. The balance of power in the fight shifted irreversibly in his favor, and soon, the remaining statues could no longer mount a credible defense against his onslaught. In a relatively short span, he dismantled the last of his stone foes, standing victorious amidst the debris of what were once formidable opponents.
Exhausted and breathing heavily, Amukelo assessed his injuries. The sharp pain in his side confirmed his suspicion of broken ribs, a testament to the severity of the battle he had just endured. Yet, despite the physical pain, he let out a loud cry of victory, a primal release of all the tension and adrenaline that had built up during the fight.
The ghost, who had been observing the entire ordeal, nodded with a mixture of approval and anticipation. It was clear that Amukelo had not only passed this rigorous test but had also demonstrated a profound growth in his capabilities and a deepened understanding of his powers. The spectral observer saw in Amukelo not just a warrior of extraordinary potential but a burgeoning hero who might one day change the course of their world.