The arena's tension had only thickened after Lia's sudden collapse. Whispers rippled through the audience, but the instructor's voice cut firmly through them.
"Next match! Ron Volkov versus Lirael Elenros. Step forward!"
The crowd shifted its focus as Lirael gracefully ascended the stage, her silver-blonde hair shimmering faintly under the arena's glow, jade-green eyes calm but sharp. On the opposite side, Ron strode in silence—spear in hand, fire dancing faintly along the shaft. His expression carried none of his usual levity; it was storm-dark and sharpened with anger.
Lirael's lips parted softly. "...How's Lia's condition?"
Ron stopped at the center, his grip tightening. His voice was low, heavy.
"She's asleep. Mana backflow... the healers say."
Lirael's eyes widened slightly. "Mana backflow...? That's serious."
Ron's gaze narrowed, the heat in his chest almost rising to his spear's flame. "Before we fight... let me give you a warning."
