The ground trembled beneath the chaos of battle. Sparks of magic flared through the midnight sky over Division One, lighting the battlefield in flashes of blue, red, and white. What was once a place of peace and safe living was now turned into a battlefield in half a day. The air was thick with smoke, fire, and the iron scent of blood. Mages screamed spells into the dark, their voices cracking under exhaustion as monstrous roars shook the dome that separated the battlefield from the rest of the city.
Miles stood at the center of it all, armor cracked, uniform torn, mana flaring faintly around his body like a flickering candle struggling to survive a storm. His sword was coated in the blood of too many creatures to count, green, black, blue, all steaming and hissing as they burned off the steel. He could barely breathe. Each exhale came ragged, his lungs screaming from overuse. But he held his ground.
