The turmoil outside did not disrupt the match. The battle inside the Dome continued.
Trom's energy was steadily being drained, yet Onassis remained as calm and still as a placid lake. Trom sensed that something was wrong as well. If he kept attacking, he would very likely exhaust himself first. After pondering for a moment, Trom launched another relatively weak attack. Afterward, instead of dodging the rebounding force, he followed the golden light's recoil, performed a backflip, and landed steadily on the reef where he had begun.
Trom looked at Onassis with a solemn expression.
It seemed as though an impenetrable shield of light surrounded Onassis. Unless he found a way to break through it, he could hardly see any hope of victory.
What should he do?
As Trom's mind raced, he failed to notice that the air around him was growing increasingly damp and sticky.
Onassis, on the other hand, swept a puzzled glance around him and thought, The atmosphere is getting more and more oppressive. I have this uneasy feeling... Should I end this now?
What method should I use to end it? Various philosophical texts flashed through Onassis's mind.
But just as Onassis was considering this, the light suddenly dimmed, as though day had turned into night.
The instant the view changed, a thunderous boom suddenly rang out beside their ears.
At the same time, a bolt of lightning tore across the darkened horizon. White light flooded the sea, and the heavy air seemed to ignite in an instant.
Trom had already been on edge. The clap of thunder gave him a fright, and his expression changed slightly. He abruptly raised his head, suspicion flashing through his eyes as he stared at the low clouds drifting endlessly overhead.
On the other side, Onassis's expression changed as well.