In the heart of the Silverleaf forest, the duel between Francus and the young elf
had escalated beyond mere marksmanship to a game of wits and agility. The initial volley of shots from Francus, aimed with deceptive accuracy, had forced the elf into a defensive sprint, his heart racing as he darted between the trees, evading the beams of light that seemed to follow his every move.
The elf, convinced he had pinpointed Francus's location, charged towards what he believed was his adversary's hiding spot. His hands closed around the energy rifle, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, only to realize the area was deserted, a clever ruse by Francus to draw him out.
Confusion clouded the elf thoughts for a mere moment before a calm, confident voice pierced the silence from behind him. "You lose," Francus declared, standing with his rifle lowered, not a weapon of aggression but of conclusion to their friendly contest.