Five minutes passed.
Soren had not initiated a single attack. He had not attempted any offensive strategy. He had simply absorbed Clara's assault and observed the patterns she unconsciously repeated.
Then he finally decided to make a move.
His earth magic erupted, but not in response to Clara's immediate position. Instead, it restructured the arena floor based on exactly where Clara would be positioned to execute her next attack sequence.
The disruption caught her mid-stride. Her carefully constructed positioning collapsed. Her barriers flickered as her concentration splintered.
Soren pressed forward with devastating efficiency, his magic no longer defensive but methodically offensive. He had identified the pattern.
He had understood her strategy. He had simply waited until understanding guaranteed victory.
Clara attempted to adjust. She tried to recover her tactical advantage.
But Soren's calculated assault continued, relentlessly devastating in its cold certainty.
