The classroom was finally peaceful.
The battle scars across the marble floor—burn marks, shattered tiles, and the faint, acrid scent of scorched mana—stood as silent reminders of what had happened here.
Desks were overturned, some split clean down the middle. A few had been vaporized entirely. The windows were gone, replaced by a cool breeze that whispered through the jagged edges of broken glass.
But there was no more screaming. No more pressure in the air.
Just silence.
I exhaled, long and slow, rubbing the corner of my eye with the back of a blood-stained glove. Lan was slung across my back again, humming faintly like it was satisfied. Like this was the outcome it expected.
Of course. Here's an improved and more natural version of your chapter while keeping your tone, pacing, and key elements intact:
"…It's over," I said aloud.
Maybe to convince myself.
Maybe to remind the room.
—Yeah. It's over, kid.
The voice echoed in my head—rough, familiar, and finally back.
