"You're really going to make that old fool face him?"
Elamenor, now standing, showed no signs of nervousness or hesitation. His expression was serene, almost indifferent, as if what was about to happen was just another routine event in his day.
James continued, still grinning from ear to ear, "Elamenor, my boy, go on and show that old fool why you're the Warchild. Remind everyone here why you're a force to be reckoned with."
Elamenor didn't need any further encouragement. He stepped forward, each movement precise and controlled, exuding an aura of quiet power that sent a chill through the crowd. The atmosphere shifted dramatically as he made his way to the center of the arena, where the master, Gale, and his apprentice, Alan, still stood, both of them visibly tense.
The crowd, especially those unfamiliar with Elamenor's strength, could hardly believe what was happening. Some still doubted, whispering amongst themselves that this was a mistake, that a child couldn't possibly be a match for anyone, let alone a seasoned master.
But others, particularly the disciples of the Primordial Chaos Sect, watched with knowing eyes, anticipating the display of power that was about to unfold.
Gale, feeling the immense pressure of the situation, steeled himself. He had witnessed many powerful beings in his lifetime, but there was something different about this boy. Something that made even a seasoned warrior like him uneasy.
Elamenor came to a stop, his gaze locking onto Gale with an intensity that sent shivers down the master's spine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the arena silent as everyone held their breath, waiting for the inevitable clash.
James, still grinning, leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he watched with interest. "This should be fun," he murmured to himself, fully aware of the power about to be unleashed.
The arena was now filled with the *soft hum of anticipation*, as everyone waited to see how this audacious declaration would play out.
Gale, recovering from the initial shock, took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He met Elamenor's gaze with a steely resolve, though a flicker of uncertainty remained in his eyes.
"Is that so?" Gale said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of frustration. He took a step forward, his demeanor shifting from surprise to determination. "You've got guts, kid. But don't think for a second that your bravado means anything here."
He glanced at Alan, who was still looking bewildered, before turning back to Elamenor. "If you truly believe you can handle both of us, then show us. We'll see if you're all talk or if you actually have the strength to back it up."
Gale's voice carried a mix of challenge and defiance as he addressed Elamenor. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, reflecting their anticipation and curiosity. The sound of *shuffling footsteps* and *soft whispers* filled the arena, as everyone braced for the confrontation that was about to unfold.
Elamenor's grin remained unchanged, his eyes gleaming with a confident glint. He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Alright then. Let's see if you can make this interesting. But first, why don't you both get healed up? I wouldn't want anyone claiming that I fought you in a weakened state, now would I?"
"Let me handle that," Adams said, waving his hand. Instantly, the wounds on Alan and Gale healed, their energy and mana fully restored. They felt reinvigorated, their strength and vitality returning.
"Good, now that you're all set," Elamenor said with a grin reminiscent of a certain infamous figure from Adams' favorite anime, the one who had haunted countless armies—the legendary Madara Uchiha. "Let's dance."
Adams, seeing the familiar and unsettling grin on Elamenor's face, chuckled with anticipation. "This is going to be fun."