The dense woodland stretched endlessly before them, every shadow and rustling leaf a potential threat. Lyra, Victor, and their bonds moved in unison, their senses on high alert as they pushed deeper into the chaotic arena.
The sounds of distant clashes echoed faintly through the trees—shouts, roars, and the crackling of magic. The free-for-all was far from over, and the tension hung heavy in the air.
"We've been lucky so far," Lyra said quietly, her greatsword resting on her shoulder as she glanced around. "But that won't last. People will start grouping up to take us out."
Victor nodded, his black eyes scanning the shadows. His staff glowed faintly, the wisps of shadow around his feet shifting with each step. "The arena's thinning out, but that just means the ones left are going to be even tougher."
Sylvia sniffed the air, her tail flicking. "Let them come. I could use the exercise."
