The battle raged on as Adventurers and the black-clad knights clashed in relentless waves, their auras colliding with violent intensity. Weapons screamed as they sliced through air and armor alike; every strike sent tremors rippling through the already fractured terrain.
At the rear of the battlefield, where the pressure felt slightly less suffocating yet remained perilous, Sage stood firm like a solitary pillar against an encroaching storm. His staff glowed faintly as he conjured spell after spell with brutal precision.
Magic circles flickered around him in rapid succession, appearing not only before him but beneath enemies' feet, behind their shoulders, and even above their heads before detonating in flashes of fire, wind, and lightning that tore through advancing foes.
Though his casting hadn't slowed since the battle began, the toll was becoming increasingly evident.
