The roar of the crowd nearly drowned them as five apprentices floated inside the golden pillar of light.
Motor still shimmered in liquid-metal form. That special state, the one that spiked all his stats sky-high, would take six full hours to recover from. It had also burned through ten of his attribute points. But for him, the cost was nothing compared to the prize they had just won. The team match championship reward far outweighed any personal sacrifice.
Below them, on the enormous card platform, stood all the apprentices who had already been knocked out.
Rita let her eyes sweep over the crowd. Some faces were missing entirely—apprentices who had fallen in the Divine Game and, for one reason or another, had not been revived by their academies.
Others stared at them with open resentment. Some glared at Rita. Some at Maple Syrup. But most fixed their hate on Mistblade.
