The battlefield had turned against Chumo.
His shadow technique—one of his most vital tools—relied on the presence of even the faintest silhouette. A shard of stone casting a line. A body blocking the light. Anything to give him an anchor to vanish and reappear. But now, with the arena illuminated by the spectral glow of Poseidon's summoned jellyfish, there was nowhere to hide.
No shadows. No escape.
Worse yet, Poseidon's watery domain weighed on him like a crushing tide, slowing every movement and disrupting his spiritual flow. The air was dense, as if he were submerged in an oceanic graveyard.
"No more running. Come and fight me!" Poseidon bellowed, voice echoing like thunder in the depths. With a swing of his trident, he sent multiple spiraling spirit-waves toward Chumo—waves sharpened by divine law.
