The hushed anticipation in the stadium was palpable as the clash between Lykhor and Sephira reached its conclusion.
As the dust and debris settled, Sephira lay sprawled on the arena floor, unconscious. Standing tall, unscathed, and cruelly triumphant was Lykhor, who had effortlessly sidestepped Sephira's desperate assault and incapacitated her from multiple angles.
Lykhor's cruel laughter broke the silence. "She's weak," he jeered, addressing the onlookers. "Is she truly part of your esteemed family, Alvara?" His words dripped with disdain.
Alvara, seated calmly with her legs crossed in the highest tier of the stadium, cast a disinterested glance toward her fallen cousin. "Boring," she muttered with indifference.
"Right? Let's make it more interesting then!" Lykhor seized the opportunity to add further insult, ruthlessly kicking Sephira's limp form.
Celeste couldn't remain silent any longer and yelled, "Enough! She's defenseless!"
