Regret

Dyon and Atkin moved forward simultaneously as though in tacit agreement, the wind pressure of their fists colliding even before their fists themselves. 

"You've grown weak, Nameless Immortal God!" 

Atkin's voice came out in a low growl, his reverberating voice beating like drums against the minds of all those who heard him. 

The Dragon Ancestor could feel the feeble nature of Dyon's strike. Compared to his own, it was almost like a fly fluttering in the wind, unable to upturn the storms around it. 

Yet, completely out of his expectations, Dyon didn't take a single step backward. His back stood as straight as a spear, his fist angling upward to meet the downward descending strike of the much taller humanoid beast. In that moment, it seemed that nothing in this world could shake him. 

After a moment of being stunned, Atkin sneered.