Facing Thunderbird's furious assault, Alan knew that stubbornly blocking would only put him at a disadvantage; he had to dodge. However, the fiery blade could freely extend and retract at the opponent's will, so retreating was not a viable option. Alan instantly activated the Phase Boots on his feet, darting forward at high speed and flashing to the left. As he moved sideways, he cast several Shadowless Divine Slashes at Thunderbird, attempting to disrupt his focus.
"Hehehe, have you run out of tricks?"
Seeing Alan's movement, Thunderbird sneered coldly. He swung his fiery blade horizontally and pulled it back with force. The massive blade swept toward the direction where Alan had dodged, and the Shadowless Divine Slashes were destroyed by the sweeping flames before they could cause Thunderbird any harm.
"Hahaha, run, run! The space here has already been sealed by the jammer on your body, so you can't Apparate anymore, can you? Let's see if your legs are faster, or if my flames are faster!" Thunderbird's face twisted into a brutal expression as he wildly swung the giant blade.
The row of flame blades formed by Fiendfyre severed the trees along the way. The snow melted instantly, and everything was consumed by the raging fire, turning the area behind Alan into a sea of flame. The waves of fire approaching Alan were like a towering tsunami forged from heat, giving off an overwhelming sense of oppression.
Alan was frantically running in an arc, keeping Thunderbird as the center. In a short while, he was almost behind his opponent.
*No, I can't retreat anymore. The trap I set earlier is still too far away. If I let the Fiendfyre ignite everything, it will be trouble. Stalling for time isn't enough; I have to make a move.*
"Electronic Vortex!"
Having made up his mind, Alan stopped. He fiercely swung his wand at the approaching giant blade. A brilliant electric light was drawn from the tip of his wand, and the current, interwoven with blue and silver, rapidly converged to form a lightning whip seven or eight meters long. As Alan pulled his wand, this thunder snake met the flame blade.
The moment the lightning and Fiendfyre collided, a tremendous metallic clang erupted, as if the whip and blade were solid metal weapons rather than raw elements. Alan's lightning whip seemed both soft and hard; the tip coiled tightly around the flame blade like leather, but the body of the whip was as straight and rigid as steel, preventing the blade from advancing an inch further.
"Haha! How exhilarating! This is what I want! Bring out whatever other tricks you have, otherwise, I guarantee you won't see tomorrow's sun!" Thunderbird laughed wildly. He gripped his blade with both hands and exerted more force, pressing the flames toward Alan.
Alan struggled to resist the advancing blade. The Fiendfyre seemed to sense its master's malice, burning even more intensely. Although the thunder whip remained firm under his control, the immense force pushed him slowly backward, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the snow. The heat wave assailed Alan's face, causing him to sweat profusely despite the Christmas cold.
*I can't keep this tug-of-war going. How does this madman's magic seem endless? He's casting such large-scale magic without any sign of fatigue.*
Alan gritted his teeth and dropped into a slight squat, lowering his center of gravity. With a sudden burst of strength from his waist and legs, he flicked the thunder whip upward, sending the flame blade high into the air.
Taking a quick breath, Alan lowered himself and charged at Thunderbird, drawing the whip back. The tip, shining with dazzling electric light, transformed into a silver snake's head and bit fiercely at his opponent.
Because the flame blade had been lifted high and was so large, its movement radius was too long, making it clumsy. Thunderbird realized that if he maintained its size, he wouldn't be able to respond in time. He showed no panic, however. With a sneer and an experienced flick of his wrist, he shrunk the tens of meters of flame down to a few meters, calmly meeting the serpentine thunder whip.
The two magic weapons clashed fiercely again. This time, it was no longer a tug-of-war, but a close-quarters combat between two rangers. Thunderbird fought like a lumberjack, raising his blade and chopping down repeatedly in a frantic rhythm.
For Alan, close combat was his specialty and his favorite way to fight. Facing Thunderbird's advance, he merely sneered and used his footwork to dodge, not even raising his whip to block. When Thunderbird drew his blade up again, Alan seized the opening. He ducked and swung his whip low, aiming for Thunderbird's legs.
Thunderbird was startled. He stopped his downward chop and swung the blade horizontally to block the lower path. But Alan's move changed instantly. With a flick of his wand, the low-sweeping whip undulated like a wave, rising in a strange arc and thrusting directly at Thunderbird's right cheek.
Thunderbird had already committed to the downward block and was too late to defend his head. Realizing his peril, he rolled to the left, narrowly dodging decapitation.
While the roll saved his life, it cost him the initiative. One step slow meant being slow every step thereafter. Seeing this, Alan raised his thunder whip and launched a storm-like assault. The whip was like a venomous snake in his hands—slashing, sweeping, and thrusting at the man. Under the continuous offense, Thunderbird lost his momentum; he could only dodge and parry, barely holding his ground against the onslaught.