Victory.
For one shining moment, Azrael stood, unsteady but unbroken. He had done it he had actually won.
Then the fire in his veins went out. The pain he had been holding back hit him all at once, and his legs gave way. He crashed to the ground, chest heaving, vision blurry.
But the fight wasn't over.
Orion and Seraphina were still clashing, lightning against crystal, sparks and shards flying with every hit. Orion's face twisted with anger he was used to crushing enemies quickly, not being held back.
"Enough!" he roared, throwing a thunderbolt that smashed through her crystal wall. The shards scattered, and Seraphina jumped back to avoid the blast.
On the other side, the last second-year swordsman was pressing Selvara hard.
She fought with cold precision, but her movements were slower, her stance shaky. She was hurt, though she tried to hide it.
Isolde, done with her own opponent, stood watching the field, her sharp eyes calculating.
