Lyon stood at the edge of the seventh magic brand, his eyes sweeping across the arena. The other six young masters remained locked in their respective phenomena, the sheer brilliance of their power radiating outward in a symphony of elemental chaos. Mavis' winds howled like a tempest, Esmeralda's serpents coiled tighter in anticipation, and Yuri's Black Kirin snarled at the heavens. The crowd buzzed with excitement and speculation, but amid all the spectacle, it was Lyon who captured their curiosity most of all.
As Lyon took a single step forward, the sound of his claps—slow, deliberate—cut through the cacophony. He applauded, his hands making an echo that reverberated through the arena, though no one understood how they could hear him so clearly amidst the elemental storms.
"This era is not that bad," he said casually, glancing at the six, his eyes gleaming with something that might've been admiration—or perhaps amusement.
