The once-pristine training hall was a mess.
The ground was shattered, cracks sprawling across the floor like battle scars. Debris littered the area, and the air was thick with dust.
Many of the spectators had already fled—not out of boredom, but out of fear.
The battle had escalated far beyond a simple assessment.
Yet, Plavius refused to stop.
Like a relentless boxer, he lunged forward once more—
"BOOM!"
A powerful right hook came crashing down, sending shockwaves through the floor.
Draven swiftly jumped back, landing lightly on his feet.
His Dark eyes narrowed.
'This guy… this isn't an assessment anymore. He's fighting with everything he has.'
Plavius exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down his forehead.
"How long do you plan on dodging?" he growled. "You think you can tire me out just by evading?"
Draven smirked.
"Oh? So you figured it out?"
Plavius' muscles tensed.
