Ryan did not stop there. Gritting his teeth, he condensed a third Wind Blade.
Three in total.
But as the third blade took shape, a heavy pressure pressed down on his body. His breathing tightened, and a sense of strain surged through him.
When he tried to condense a fourth, the pressure became overwhelming, as if something invisible were crushing him. In the end, Ryan had no choice but to stop.
Three was the limit.
Both the limit of what he could form and what he could control.
"So three it is."
With a sharp motion, Ryan flung all three Wind Blades at once. They shot forward in a staggered, zigzag pattern, sealing off multiple angles and locking onto the Golden-Blood Polar Shadow Bird's path.
"Huh?"
Caught completely off guard, the bird cried out in alarm. It had never encountered such an attack before. Three blades came simultaneously, blocking its evasive routes and leaving it momentarily confused.
