The jungle arena, a stage set for a clash of titans, held its breath. Vel, the elven king, stood opposite Lux, the prodigious human champion, the air crackling with the residue of their previous, explosive exchange.
"You truly think I am here just to watch you break this shield?" Vel's voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous, calculating light.
He had hoped to win without resorting to this, a power born from a blessing, a touch of the void itself.
But Lux's unique Convertor talent left him no choice. He began to chant, his voice low and resonant, weaving a spell he had spent decades perfecting, a silent, invisible blade forged in the emptiness between realities.
As the final syllable left Vel's lips, the spell shot forth. But it did not travel through the air. It did not carry a visible form or an audible sound. It simply… vanished.
