The arena's air still buzzed from Torren and Veyra's clash, the ground freshly smoothed by the academy's enchantments, its packed earth gleaming under the midday sun. Stone tiers loomed, their rune-etched pillars casting faint shadows, the absence of a crowd amplifying every sound—whispers, shuffling boots, the low hum of mana. Teachers and faculty watched from above, Lyra's silver-trimmed gown catching the light, her gaze sharp. The God Wand's case shimmered in the arena's center, its adaptive form twisting subtly, a beacon of power that set hearts racing.
The headmaster, his crimson robes smoldering with residual fire, raised a hand, his voice booming. "Next volunteer!"
