Boom!
The dust blew up like a thundercloud as Bheema was flung backward, landing on his back with a grunt. A red burn flared over his shoulder. The magical roots shimmered faintly and retracted into the ground.
"Trap skill cards," Qin muttered coldly, scanning the arena. "That wasn't just a root-binding. They embedded an explosive spell in those. We didn't even see while they were adding it to the soul skills."
"Damn Elves. I thought they were nice and simple people. They are shrewd, too." Bheema rolled back to his feet and clenched his gauntlets tighter, the metal now glowing faintly red. "Now I'm really mad."
Across the field, the Ellondir Academy formation hadn't moved. The three archers stood in a perfect triangle, longbows crackling with spirit arrows, each aimed at a different target.
The two mages were behind them, calmly weaving more earth and wind spells together, layering their terrain with traps and barriers.
