The battlefield inside Ramuza's grand hall had turned into pure chaos.
Dax was in the thick of it, blades flashing, carving through the oncoming mages like a storm tearing cloth. Auren hung helplessly above the ground, body bound and smothered by Aazin's swirling black fog, while Aazin himself drifted through the air—hands raised, calmly tightening his grip on the shadows that held Auren.
On the floor, Nyra's voice cut through the noise, her commands driving the monstrous, three-faced monkey Bali, who swung his colossal hammer with brutal force, sending armored men flying in all directions. And amidst the frenzy, Nova's trembling hand had birthed something terrifying—a canvas-born dragon, blazing with fire, thrashing and spewing flame across the battlefield, scorching everything it touched.
The hall was no longer a dining chamber; it was a furnace of magic, steel, and fury.
