"Let's test you more."
Lucavion's smirk deepened, but this time there was a shadow of something else beneath it—something darker, more primal. His estoc shifted slightly in his grip, and for a brief moment, the arena seemed to be still. The air grew heavy, charged with a tension that made the crowd's cheers falter.
The black flames around Lucavion surged to life, no longer restrained by the casual flicks of his blade. They twisted and writhed like living shadows, their movements unnervingly chaotic. The temperature in the arena didn't rise—instead, it dropped, a biting chill settling over the space despite the flames' presence.
Varen's breath caught in his chest as an unfamiliar pressure washed over him. It was subtle at first, a faint weight pressing against his senses, but it quickly grew heavier, more oppressive. His fiery mana wavered slightly, flickering as though it, too, felt the weight of Lucavion's power.
