The opening match was already heating up by the time Roland's party settled into their seats in the VIP spectator stands.
Down below, on the compacted white sand, two mages were clashing for their lives—or at least, their pride. One wore a blazing red robe, while his opponent was clad in light green. The mana barrier encircling the arena pulsed with a soft blue light, reflecting the rays of the rising morning sun.
Swoosh!
The Fire Mage took the initiative, unleashing a fierce, roaring orange fireball. However, the Wind Mage had already moved a split second before the projectile could even reach the center of the ring. He had no intention of parrying. The green-robed youth simply took a light step to the left, ducked to the right, and elegantly spun away to evade the heat. His movements were as smooth as silk, almost like a man performing a waltz.
"Huh? What is he waiting for?" Adul whispered, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared down at the arena.
