Draven stood at the front of the room, his sharp eyes surveying the class as the silence stretched. The air was thick with anticipation, each student sitting straighter, their focus entirely on the man who commanded both fear and respect. His cloak billowed slightly as he moved, his cold gaze settling on the blackboard. With a flick of his fingers, the chalk rose from the tray, guided by his psychokinesis, and began drawing two simple figures of wizards in long robes.
The students watched intently as the figures came to life, their drawn robes flowing as if blown by an invisible wind. Draven didn't say a word at first, allowing the image to settle into their minds. Then, without missing a beat, he flicked his hand again, and the figures began to move, mimicking a duel.
