Unlike Old Gayle, Alan—still standing firmly in place—didn't try to track the silver-haired youth's movements with his eyes. Instead, he slowly closed them, tuning in to the flow of mana around him.
A few moments passed. As a leaf gently floated to the ground, Alan suddenly raised his hand and gripped the air to his left.
In that instant, the silver-haired youth's figure appeared, his fist tightly caught in Alan's hand. A look of astonishment flickered across his face.
Everyone watching was stunned.
From their perspective, it had looked as if the youth had charged directly into Alan's waiting grip—as if he'd voluntarily offered up his arm for capture.
"You're too slow," Alan said quietly, twisting his wrist with force.
Crack, crack, crack!
A chorus of sickening bone-cracking noises echoed across the scene.
