The crowd murmured with approval. Two unknowns against two curious heavyweights.
They stepped onto the dueling stage. The platform's edge lit with a ring of blue energy, sealing them in.
Shae-Luren gave Veyra a small, coy smile. "Try not to cut too deep, dear. I like this dress."
Veyra responded by drawing a thin crimson blade made of condensed energy.
Vaen didn't draw anything. He simply knelt, placed a hand to the ground, and whispered a phrase in a tongue older than stone. Green tendrils of essence swirled around him, roots forming symbols beneath his feet.
Asher cracked his knuckles, already beginning to glow faintly with layered energy, subtle and dense.
The Spiremaster raised his hand.
"Begin."
The platform exploded into motion.
Shae-Luren vanished into mist and reappeared beside Veyra with claws of shadow dancing around her fingers. Veyra blocked, pivoted, and slashed—each movement fast and elegant. Their duel took the form of a waltz, each blow flowing into the next.
