Malric could be seen standing at the edge of the gathering, his arms folded and a smug look plastered across his face. He seemed almost entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Meanwhile, Eiran still knelt defiantly, his posture rigid, his expression determined as ever, refusing to yield to anything Lior demanded.
At this point, Lior's patience was already running thin. Irritation twisted across his features as he lifted his hand and began to swirl his energy. In his palm flickered the newly learned skill—Firefall. It was a technique, one he had recently mastered before graduation. When unleashed, the spell would descend upon its target like a heavy snowfall or a sudden rain shower, only instead of gentle flakes or droplets, it struck down sharp blazing fragments that pierced through flesh.
