Arthur stood atop the academy's highest spire, his gaze fixed on the chaos unfolding below. The battlefield stretched wide, filled with clashing aether bursts and shattered earth, yet his eyes followed only one.
Talking about Emma — the girl Merlin had praised until the very end. Out of obligation more than curiosity, Arthur watched her duel. But as the battle went on, he found himself genuinely impressed.
A seventeen-year-old mage, casting a six-circle spell with such calm precision… her control was remarkable.
Each chant was measured, each movement deliberate, and her focus never wavered even when faced with overwhelming pressure. That she emerged without serious injury, despite battling the second-strongest golem, spoke clearly of her experience.
Yes, Merlin's compliments were well-founded.
But what came next truly shook him.
A storm — pure mayhem.
