The crowd was buzzing with murmurs, disbelief, excitement, and chaotic anticipation which rippled through the arena like waves.
And amid that roaring energy, one figure lay unmoving on the stage.
Rovan Yale.
"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" his thoughts screamed, blood pounding in his ears. Am I really going to lose to a kid? Can I live with that shame for the rest of my life?
He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding. What even is that strange gravity magic? Creating pressure suddenly is one thing—but to maintain it? And still keep fighting like nothing's weighing him down? Is that even possible?
Rovan's entire worldview was beginning to crack. He had been cautious of Logan earlier—but now, after those last two exchanges of blows, he was shaken more than he'd ever been in a match. More than even hearing Logan had three affinities.
Three affinities aren't unheard of, Rovan reminded himself. But being a Tier 1 mage and still dominating a Tier 2 like me? That… that's insane.
