~Back on the battlefield.
Screech!
The monsters screeched, their roars drowned beneath the screaming wind. Their bodies lifted, twisted, and shredded—torn by thousands of invisible blades.
Blood sprayed across the arena.
Flesh hit stone.
She landed gracefully in the eye of her own storm.
Silence fell.
Only three monsters remained, their bodies battered, skin ripped open, two of them crawling.
The mage panted, chest rising and falling, but her eyes—those savage, golden-reptilian eyes—burned brighter.
Above, one scientist whispered with reverence, "This is no longer merely a wind spell… she's touching the elemental consciousness of the wind itself."
Back below, one of the crawling monsters roared defiantly.
She didn't move.
Instead, her mouth curled upward.
Then, she spread her wings again—broken as they were—and raised one arm toward the high ceiling.
"Final symphony of the storm—Howl of the Skies."
It wasn't a spell.
It was an invocation.
