The Frost family palace trembled as the storm broke the sky like spider webs, shaking the very foundations of the city.
The sky was a churning mass of black clouds, crackling with golden streaks of lightning. Thunder echoed through the streets as if the heavens themselves were in uproar.
At the center of it all, high above the training grounds, hovered Kent—his figure barely visible through the storm. His hair flowed like dark tendrils in the wind, and his eyes glowed with a fierce, otherworldly light. He raised his hands toward the swirling clouds, controlling the storm with the ease of a god commanding his element.
Below him, 20,000 Supreme Wizards stood in perfect formation, arranged in a spoked wheel. The formation rotated, each wizard acting as part of a vast chariot wheel, their movements synchronized, like the grinding gears of an unstoppable force.
