Three days passed in silence within the cavern.
The stone walls were scorched black, cracks spreading like veins across the surface, still radiating the faint remnants of destructive heat. At the very center sat Ezra, cross-legged, his body surrounded by the dim flicker of silver light. His aura, once unstable and raging like a storm, had finally calmed to a steady rhythm.
A sharp breath escaped his lips as his eyelids parted. For a fleeting instant, silver mana flickered in his pupils—sharp, cold, and majestic—before it vanished like mist. His clothes, however, hadn't survived the ordeal. Burnt edges clung to his skin, charred and tattered. With slow, deliberate movements, he rose to his feet, his body radiating quiet strength.
