In the arena enlarged by the dragons' magic, Akane and Belgaroth faced each other in silence, perfectly still. The atmosphere quickly became charged with extreme tension, palpable even from the dark cell where Mordred was holding his breath. The bleachers, usually so noisy, now seemed to be holding their collective breath.
Akane, calm and focused, slowly adopted her fighting stance, holding her light sword firmly in front of her. Her silver hair fluttered slightly in the gentle wind blowing through the arena, her perfectly balanced posture a testament to her exceptional mastery. Her gaze, intense and piercing, never left her opponent for a second.
Belgaroth, for his part, wore a confident, arrogant smile. His amber eyes shone with cruel curiosity as he analyzed his opponent's every move with precision. The dragon, in his humanoid form, wore light dark armor with red highlights, and a long, dark red blade, slightly curved, gleamed dangerously in his powerful hand.
