The arena pulsed with tension as the Sand Dome continued to shrink.
Leaning in, breathless, the audience's eyes mirrored the magnitude of the devastating spell. Just watching it made them feel as though they, too, were being crushed beneath the weight of the sand.
Elira allowed herself a satisfied smirk, arms crossed with a hint of smugness.
"So much for the so-called sure winner" she muttered, confident of the outcome.
Not only was he no longer a threat, but she also relished seeing the woman she hated most go pale.
Lucia, clutching the edge of her seat, felt a knot tighten in her chest.
She believed in him, but even her faith began to waver.
In her mind, there was no way the sand dome could shrink that much without reducing whoever was inside to paste.
And she wasn't the only one—most of those present shared the same conclusion.
The bearkin announcer lifted a paw, his booming voice ready to declare the match.
