The moment the referee dropped his hand, Tyler charged like a bull let loose.
His mace ripped through the air, wind swirling and howling around it. He spun and slammed it down toward Altia.
"And Tyler wastes no time! He's going in with the full force of wind!" the commentator shouted.
CLANG!
Altia blocked, but the blow sent her sliding back. Sparks flew. The crowd gasped.
"Whoa!"
"She stopped that?"
"Barely!"
But Tyler didn't slow down.
Swing after swing, wind trailing behind every strike—wild, fast, and brutal.
Altia struggled. Her arms shook with each block. She barely dodged a downward slam that cracked the ground beside her.
"Look at that pressure! Altia can't even breathe right now!"
"Tyler's not holding back at all—he wants to end this early!"
In the stands, the Blackthorn students were already cheering.
"Crush her, Tyler!"
"Send her flying!"
Altia tried to jab with her spear, but the wind knocked it off-course. A gust hit her from the side—she stumbled.
