The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation.
Harven took a step back, and the metallic sound of blades echoed in the arena. Damon and Morgana remained motionless for a moment, studying each other with the attention of predators. The wind blew, carrying dust and loose ribbons from the Academy's banners.
Her golden eyes never wavered. Morgana didn't seem nervous—but she wasn't relaxed either. Her posture was precise, as if every muscle were waiting for the exact moment.
Damon, on the other hand, seemed too calm. He held his sword with only one hand, the blade low, almost touching the ground. A provocative, undefined position—the kind of guard that dared the opponent to make the first move.
Harven raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Morgana advanced first.
