The moment the final phase began, the arena came alive like a breathing monster that had been sleeping.
The massive circular platform that formed in the center wasn't still for more than a breath.
Brrrrrr...
It twisted, rotated, and tilted, shifting uneven terrain across its surface—raised pillars, trenches of jagged stone, and slick, glassy slopes that reflected mana like mirrors.
At its center hovered the Final Beacon—a floating orb of swirling crimson light, wrapped in rotating rings of silver-etched stone.
Every movement, every breath, every quake of essence pulsing from that orb said one thing:
Victory is here. Fight for it.
"Go!" Damon snapped, voice like steel as he launched forward, his sword angled down to his side in reverse grip.
Celeste blurred ahead on the right flank, shield tight to her arm, daggers of crackling light forming at her back.
