This was a difficult and dangerous battle. Even throughout Punk's entire legendary career, it ranked among the toughest fights he had ever faced.
He might have seemed to be fighting with ease, using a single scheme to destroy the enemy's trump card and nearly blow the unfortunate priestess to death on the spot, but in reality... Whisper of Destruction had paid no small price.
Of his originally impregnable seventeen layers of magical defenses, only ten remained. The other seven had shattered beneath enemy attacks or the aftermath of explosions.
Moreover, having lost such important shields, the Morningstar Mage had no choice but to carefully calculate every scrap of mana he used while maintaining a relentless high-frequency offensive to suppress his enemies. After all, there was no way he alone could outlast the alternating siege of two professionals at the same level. A strategy of relying on defenses for a war of attrition would simply be slow suicide. Thus, Punk could only attack, attack, and attack again—unleash ultimate moves, then unleash more ultimate moves—striving to eliminate another troublesome enemy before his mana ran dry.
Yes, Anthony did not dare waste time on a war of attrition, but Whisper of Destruction did not dare engage in one either.
The reason was simple—who knew how long the battle between Mestur and the Chairman, those two radiant sun powerhouses, would last? One second, or ten thousand years?
What if the Archmage was absurdly powerful and fought the Chairman and Tiamat without end? Punk was very worried that the two Morningstar Priests, who looked utterly determined to fight to the death, would wear him down alive.
*"Battle is a splendid waltz, but this lavish feast must now end as quickly as possible... Since I cannot delay any longer, I might as well attack without restraint.