The night air at the forest's edge trembled with waves of magic. Erick stood swaying on the grassy ground, his body battered with wounds, face bruised, breath ragged. His academy uniform was in tatters, fresh blood staining its once-white fabric. Floating above him was a mysterious woman on a broom, her face hidden beneath a dark hood. Her posture was languid—one hand propping her chin, the other idly spinning a small fireball as though she had not a care in the world.
"Hooaam…" she yawned wide, her soft voice a jarring contrast to the deadly aura crushing down on Erick from every direction. "How dull. Still, I have to admit, you were somewhat entertaining. Unfortunately—" her lips curved faintly, red against the shadow of her hood, "—I can always get the girl back anytime. You, however, are nothing more than a temporary obstacle."
