The battlefield had escalated beyond a mere fight; what unfolded now was a clash of wills and endurance, a grinding struggle pushing everyone present to their physical, mental, and spiritual limits.
The Guild's once-mighty structure now leaned at precarious angles like a wounded beast clinging to life.
Dust filled the air, thick and suffocating, intermittently illuminated by flashes of aura and magic, transforming each moment into a chaotic strobe of fire, wind, and lightning.
Amidst this devastation stood Sage, motionless, his staff planted firmly against the fractured ground while magic circles erupted around him in relentless succession. Each one was timed with razor precision to support the Master Knights fighting desperately at the front.
The battle had devolved into a war of attrition, every second stretching out to feel both eternal and fleeting. Sage and the Master Knights clashed relentlessly with catastrophic force.
