Without waiting any longer, Misha moved like a gust of wind freed from its bounds. Her blade swept outward, shimmering with condensed mana that danced like pale green flames, revealing her trump card for the first time—her Level 7 Art: Wind of Nature.
The two S-rankers reacted instantly, their weapons flashing as they intercepted the strike. Vance, still shocked from Misha's exhibition of strength and almost regretting having her agree to fight, surged forward from the side, his sword aiming for her flank. But Misha's expression didn't waver—she pivoted on the ball of her foot, her movements as fluid as flowing water yet sharp as steel.
The air around her shifted, becoming heavier yet impossibly swift, like the pressure before a storm. Every step she took was powered by a level of control only possible through mastery of a mana base—not simply fueling her techniques but weaving mana into every motion, every strike, every breath. She wasn't just releasing energy; she was shaping it.
