The snow whipped harshly across the land, a blinding curtain of white that reduced the world to little more than shadows and muffled sounds.
Their vision was nearly useless here. But Lucian didn't need it.
He stood calmly amidst the chaos, his mana spreading outward like a net, mapping every movement around him.
Each flicker of hostile intent, each surge of breath, each paw striking the snow was caught in his senses.
With that, he moved precisely, never wasting energy, never swinging blindly. His experience carried him with ease through the storm of claws and fangs.
The same could not be said for the others.
Verus was fighting well, his flames cutting through the shadows as if the storm itself couldn't touch him. Though he was still young and rough in technique, he had raw combat instincts that served him well. But Mira struggled.
