Combat Praxis was usually a spectacle of vibrant magic and flashy swordplay. The heirs of great houses loved to show off their bloodline techniques, turning the massive arena floor into a fireworks display of elemental energy.
Today, however, General Kael was in a foul mood, which meant he was stripping away the flash.
"Structure!" Kael roared, pacing the sidelines, his golden lion eyes sweeping critically over the sweating first-years. "Magic is a crutch for the weak-spined! If your foundation crumbles the moment something heavy hits you, then you are just expensive meat waiting to be tenderized in a dungeon!"
He slapped a thick hand against the control panel on the arena wall. In the center of the sand-covered floor, a heavy runic circle glowed to life, barely five feet across.
