The battlefield was a canvas of chaos.
While Aamir's fists clashed against the old Elite warrior, somewhere amidst the flames and smoke, Riya stood amidst a circle of fallen Calonian and Navarran soldiers, her breath ragged, wand glowing faintly with residual energy.
Her uniform was torn, cheeks smudged with dirt, but her eyes still burned with defiance.
A gust of wind carried a ripple of silence across her section of the battlefield. Then—
"So, you're a mage too," a calm yet chilling voice echoed.
Riya turned.
A woman walked toward her with graceful steps. She was clad in a sleek black battle suit, a red Calonian crest stitched on her chest. Her eyes glowed with unnatural blue, and flames danced across her fingers while water spiraled gently around her ankles — no wand, no incantation.
The woman stopped ten meters away, tilted her head. "Let's find out how strong your magic really is."
Riya's fingers tightened around her wand. Her voice didn't waver.
