"Flattery, mere flattery," Owen responded, his fists swinging with vigorous force, his arcanergy continuously pouring out without cease.
Quincy felt a throbbing pain in his head, overwhelmed by frustration.
Owen's talent made him envious.
At the start, Owen needed to use five strands of arcanergy to counter Quincy's three.
Now, Owen only needed four and a half strands to match Quincy's three.
This indicated that Owen's control over arcanergy had unknowingly skyrocketed.
Quincy even suspected that if this continued, Owen's mastery of arcanergy would gradually surpass his own.
Owen, his face smeared with blood, fought with unceasing fervor.
Grinding his teeth, Quincy cursed internally: "What a beast."
Owen's physical resilience was extraordinary, far surpassing that of ordinary beings.
The physical attributes of dragons, honed over hundreds of thousands of years, were astonishingly formidable.
