The arena shuddered beneath the pressure of nobility.
Five heirs advanced like a noose — suffocating, constricting.
Serika led with her emberflow blade, its edge trailing heat that corroded the very air.
Raen circled wide, bow already half-drawn.
Lysara's ashen mist slithered in behind them, shadows eating light.
Theryn stepped with calm inevitability, his whiteflame humming like a hymn.
And Vessia — ever the blunt hammer — readied a firestorm that didn't distinguish between friend and foe.
In Caelith's opinion she was the best of the competitors in the arena, her scroll art which hailed from the central continent was hypnotizing.
It created fire type mana from numerus mana based inversions which generated friction. Even being able to see it didn't help Caelith figure it out.
One thing to note was a strange idea that had flowed in Caelith's mind.
