At that moment, Something inside Ryen snapped.
Meanwhile, The battle continue.
Flames and steel collided against the sound of shattering air.
Leona's sword howled through the air like a streak of white light, while Rachel's flame tiger lunged, its roar tearing through the chamber. The masked man didn't dodge. He didn't need to. Each strike that should've hit him cleanly—each blast that should've burned through armor—simply vanished. Like the air itself refused to let him be touched.
[Predictable,] he murmured, his voice almost bored.
He sidestepped Rachel's next strike and twisted his hand slightly. The flames recoiled midair, turning back toward their caster like a betrayed pet. Rachel's eyes widened as she raised her arm in reflex, but the backlash still sent her crashing to the ground, skidding across the stone.
