Mila staggered back toward the academy, still reeling from the headache that erupted when she had glimpsed control of the dragon beam. Her hands trembled, the faint glow of residual flame from her Flamedro Tonado fading into the night air.
"I… I'll get it next time," she muttered under her breath, voice low, almost a whisper. "I just… need more control."
She ducked behind a cluster of trees just outside the city walls, forcing herself to concentrate. She summoned a small, contained Flamedro Tonado, letting it swirl lazily above her palms, and then a fireball of Blagos Endos popped into existence, bouncing harmlessly on the dirt. Mila focused, weaving the two together. Sparks and smoke danced briefly before she collapsed into the leaves, exhausted and frustrated.
Meanwhile, across the city, in the desolate expanse of an abandoned B-rank dungeon, the strongest of the seven sages trained. Alone.
"Pathetic," the sage muttered, slashing through a group of magically animated stone guardians. Each swing of his weapon sent cracks through the dungeon walls, the air reverberating with raw magical energy. "If Mila or should I say… whoever they call Mila thinks they can match me, they're in for a surprise."
He leapt into the air, landing with a crack that shattered the floor beneath him. "Three days," he whispered, watching the last guardian crumble into dust. "Three days until our duel. I need to be perfect."
With a flick of his wrist, he activated a minor magical barrier, containing the remnants of the dungeon's collapsing ceiling. Then he began his next rotation, moving faster and more precise than before. Every spell, every strike, every movement was calculated, designed to refine his body and mind for the upcoming battle.
Back at the training grounds, Mila panted, holding her head. The memory of controlling the dragon beam lingered like a whisper, teasing her. "Someday… I'll master it," she murmured, staring into the night sky.
Somewhere in the distance, the echo of the sage's practice loud crashes and crackling energy reached her ears. For a fleeting second, she felt the weight of the duel approaching, the inevitability of confrontation mingling with the thrill of mastering her own powers.
Mila tightened her fists, her golden eyes burning with quiet determination. "I'll be ready," she whispered, a vow carried by the wind.