The air still thrummed with the echoes of gunfire and crackling lightning. Smoke curled along the arena floor, carrying the acrid scent of burnt ozone and scorched stone.
The crowd leaned forward in their seats, breaths held, eyes wide. What began as a test of strength between a Arrogant nd mischievous spear-wielder and a cocky spellslinger had evolved into something far sharper—a clash of storm and steel against arcane precision.
On one side, Arin Blake stood tall, lightning dancing over his frame, the weight of his spear balanced with effortless confidence.
On the other, Jax Harl steadied his pistols, chest heaving, eyes burning with a fire that refused to dim.
The instructor raised his hand again, voice cutting through the charged silence.
"Resume!"
And with that single word, the fight roared back to life.
Jax Harl stood tensely at the edge of the arena, eyes narrowed, fingers clenched tight around his pistols. Gone was the usual swagger—in its place, wary determination.
