The air thickened, taut with unspoken tension, while the currents of wind spiralled in restless whispers around the two combatants. It was as if the world held its breath, and in that suspended moment, the figure in disguise clenched his fists-the golden gauntlets encasing them crackling with ominous resonance.
In an instant, and without warning, he lunged forward like a predator on the hunt, his body a blur of focused energy. His right arm coiled back, the tension in his muscles palpable, before snapping forward with ferocious intent. His golden eyes blazed, radiating an intensity that seemed to light the very air around him.
"Mountain God's Crushing Fist: Avalanche Barrage!" he roared. His voice rumbled on, as unrelenting as the continuous storm. And then came the rapid punches that flew at Nyxander like a tide of force.
