«the first students climbed onto the mourning circle with tense expressions, and from where I stood, I could even see them beginning to sweat profusely.»
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.
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I watched silently, arms crossed and my back leaning against the cold stone railing. The air was charged with energy: a constant, vibrant hum born from the clash of misdirected magic and newly bound weapons. However, the truth was clear: most had no real control over their power. Their movements were clumsy, predictable, their mana circles wavering like a candle in the wind.
One of them tried to envelop his sword in mana, but barely managed a flash before his opponent disarmed him with a sharp blow. Another conjured basic ice magic that shattered the moment he cast it.
I sighed, resting my forehead on my fingers. Mediocre.
I couldn't help it. The whole spectacle seemed tedious to me, a waste of time.
