Eryndor's vision swirled with pain and debris. His body throbbed with the impact, and consciousness flickered on the edge of darkness. Through the haze, he saw Lyanna racing toward him, eyes wide and tears streaming down her face.
"No… Eryndor!" she cried, her voice breaking as she reached for him.
Before he could call out, the shadowed figure shifted with unnatural speed, appearing between them in an instant. In a single, fluid motion, a hand struck Lyanna across the cheek with enough force to stagger her backward. She fell to her knees, sobbing, wind and dust whipping her hair around her face.
Eryndor's eyes snapped open. Lightning flared violently along his arms, arcs dancing across his body as an unfamiliar heat of power surged within him. Rage, fear, and protective instinct collided inside him like a storm unleashed.
"LYANNA!" he roared, the sound tearing through the Expanse itself.
The shadowed figure paused, an almost imperceptible smirk appearing. "Ah… so this is what unlocks you."
Eryndor's body moved before thought. Lightning coiled along his limbs, wind swirling with ferocious speed. He launched forward, Eightfold Flow instincts guiding every strike, combining martial arts mastery, Ember Tier power, and raw emotion. Each punch, kick, and elbow left streaks of electricity cutting through the air.
The shadowed figure tried to dodge, but Eryndor's movements had become unpredictable, enhanced by the partial awakening of his full potential. Wind carried him faster, lightning amplified every impact, and every muscle and joint flowed together like a living weapon.
Lyanna, still on her knees, watched in awe and terror. "Eryndor… what… what is that?"
Eryndor's eyes glowed faintly blue and gold, the storm within him reaching a new threshold. "Stay back! I won't let you touch her again!"
He struck again, lightning-infused strikes connecting with bone-crunching impact, wind propelling him faster than even the shadowed figure could anticipate. The corrupted energy around his opponent sizzled, repelled, and scattered in arcs of fury.
The figure staggered slightly, surprised. "Impossible… you're only partially awakened—and yet…"
Eryndor didn't pause. Every thought, every emotion, every ounce of training and lineage fed into the assault. The battlefield became a whirlwind of hand-to-hand strikes, elemental bursts, and martial artistry unlike anything the academy had ever seen.
Lightning danced across the cracked stone, wind tore through the Expanse like slicing blades, and the shadowed figure was forced to retreat, barely managing to block or dodge each blow.
Eryndor's heart thundered—not with fear, but with clarity. This… this is only the beginning. My power… my instincts… my fury… they are all mine to command.
Lyanna scrambled to her feet, eyes wide and shining with tears. She rushed to his side, touching his arm. "Eryndor… you're… amazing…"
He glanced at her briefly, then locked his gaze back on the figure. The storm within him surged higher, partially awakened, yet far from fully unleashed, and every strike he threw carried a silent warning: do not underestimate the boy who survived the White, trained under his grandfather, and was tempered by fire, wind, and lightning alike.
The battle was no longer just survival. It had become a declaration of potential, of awakening, and of vengeance for the ones he cared about.
And the shadowed figure, for the first time, realized: this Eryndor was far beyond a mere academy student.