The academy courtyard still carried the heavy silence of destruction. Dust floated through the air, stirred by the recent battle, and shimmered in the broken moonlight cutting through the fading mist of mana.
The ground was a mess of broken stone and shattered walls, a rough and ugly reminder of the fierce fight that had just ended. The sharp smell of lightning and the iron scent of blood hung in the air—a grim reminder of violence.
Kaidën stood alone in the middle of the wreckage, his figure clear against the chaos around him. His body showed the damage from the battle—cuts marked his skin, his uniform was torn to rags, and bruises throbbed beneath the dirt. Still, he stood tall and firm.
