The arena had been rebuilt.
Not exactly restored—no one dared pretend it was still the same place. The floor was now a composition of black stone reinforced with successive layers of runes of absorption, dispersion, and containment. Columns of arcane crystal marked the perimeter, pulsing slowly, as if alive and… alert.
Even so, the air vibrated.
Kael was in the center.
Exelia in front of him.
Both wielded training swords—or, at least, what should have been training swords. The blades were thick, reinforced with rare alloys, enchanted to withstand impact, aura, and even small elemental discharges.
None of them had lasted long.
Kael took a deep breath, twirling the sword once in his hand, testing the weight.
"Again," said Exelia, adjusting her stance. "But this time, don't force it."
"I'm not forcing it," Kael replied, with a frustrated half-smile. "I'm… trying to be gentle."
She snorted.
"That sentence never ends well when it comes from you."
They advanced.
