The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was heavy with meaning.
The arena groaned as if it struggled to hold the moment. Ancient runes lit up across the floor, forming patterns too complex to understand. The air crackled, every breath thick with tension.
The knight straightened, its black armor creaking. It shifted with slow purpose and lowered its spear—not in surrender, but in challenge. The hollow slit in its helm glowed brighter, steady instead of flickering.
Fenric exhaled, silver flames swirling around him in sharp arcs. "It's not testing our strength anymore," he said calmly. "It's testing our conviction."
Aria's green fire pulsed steadily, forming protective circles. "Conviction… that's one thing it can't take from us."
Laxin spat blood, grinning. His chains rattled, eager for battle. "Then let's show it more resolve than it's seen in centuries."
