The rhythmic clang of practice swords echoed through the training room, punctuated by the sharp crackle of spells. Julianne moved with a dancer's grace, her elemental magic a vibrant extension of her will. She was a master of control, her spells precise and efficient.
Eryndor, now wielding the practice sword, was a different beast entirely. Even without actively channeling his raw mana, his strikes held an inherent, almost brutal power. His footwork was instinctive, his parries surprisingly strong.
