Durgan Blackvein did not speak at first.
He simply looked at Luca.
Not with mockery.
Not with disdain.
With assessment.
His gaze traced Luca's posture—the steadier stance, the way the boy stood despite the heat, the subtle difference in how the mana clung to his body now. As if Luca were no longer merely enduring the Crucible, but belonging to it.
"…Interesting," Durgan muttered.
Then he waved his hand.
Casually.
The arena answered.
Chains screamed as they unlocked. The suspended hammers lurched, gears roaring back to life as magma channels split open again with thunderous force. Lava surged like living veins, flooding the arena floor in glowing arcs.
The Crucible resumed.
The two hundred and first hammer fell again—this time without hesitation.
