Dean Bruce didn't allow the dark mages any respite. He continued to wave his wand, sending out beams of radiant light that struck down the attackers one by one.
Yet, just as it seemed the dark mages had been driven off, something strange and foreboding occurred.
The skies above suddenly darkened, heavy clouds rolling in ominously. Thunder rumbled through the heavens, and flashes of lightning lit up the horizon, as though heralding an even greater storm.
"What's going on?" Dean Bruce muttered, his gaze fixed on the turbulent sky above, unease tightening his chest.
A low, chilling voice echoed from the air, carrying an aura of menace:
"Dean Bruce, did you really think you could defeat us so easily? How naive."
At those words, Dean Bruce's expression turned grave. He knew that the owner of this voice must be a powerful figure among the dark mages.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice firm despite the tension in the air.
