By now, the arena had been absorbed into the Soul Spirit's domain. The Fire-stealer's movements through its swamp were severely restricted.
"Oh, you frail child of man... How did you miss again?"
At the edge of the golden swamp, Cthulhu saw Anaxa's Alchemy bullet miss once more and sneered:
"If you can't do it, give up. Those children of man don't need you anyway..."
"Shut up. Can't you see the Fire-stealer's been watching me the whole time?" Anaxa fired another shot at the black-robed swordsman, then said grimly:
"I don't know what he's made of. No matter how much time passes, he's as energetic as he was when the fight began."
Surrounded and deep in enemy territory, the black-robed swordsman still reacted with astonishing speed, weaving between attacks.
Even when an arrow struck him, he paid no attention to the wound. He simply kept trying to break through their encirclement, his eyes fixed on Anaxa.
Chains now covered the Fire-stealer's limbs. If this went on, his situation would become dire.
"Hmph!"
In an instant, he pulled out that moon-shaped staff—or perhaps it was a dagger—once more.
A strange force spread outward from the Fire-stealer, throwing Dan Heng and Phainon, the two closest to him, off their feet.
"Hm?" Sensing something wrong, the Soul Spirit raised a hand. More chains erupted from the swamp and lunged for the Fire-stealer's limbs.
"In your dreams." With a cold snort, the black-robed swordsman thrust the staff straight at the oncoming chains.
The chains vanished at once.
Seizing the opening, the Fire-stealer flashed out of the swamp and appeared before Anaxa.
"What?!" Anaxa's pupils contracted.
"Hmph!" The Fire-stealer struck viciously, driving the moon-shaped implement into Anaxa's chest.
At the same moment, the implement blazed with terrifying light. Cthulhu's Core Flame was drawn from Anaxa's body,