The other students had tried their best. I could see that they wanted to make their mark in this tournament, to prove their worth and maybe even make it to the next round.
But no matter how hard they tried, how creative their magic was, or how much effort they put into their defenses, none of them had managed to hold their ground for long against Ciara.
Six minutes. That was the average, and even that was impressive given the ruthless precision of her attacks. In a battle with Ciara, every second was a victory, a small rebellion against a force that felt unbreakable.
Watching the other students fall so quickly was almost terrifying, but it was also thrilling in a way I hadn't expected.
Ciara was strong—so much stronger than anything we had ever faced. Her purple flames danced with an intensity that felt almost alive, like a creature with its own hunger.