The forge trembled like it might collapse entirely.
Shota hovered above Lira, his eyes blazing with overwhelming arrogance and power.
Every particle of air around him bent, compressed, and radiated with a pressure so intense it made reality itself quiver.
---
Lira's fists glowed purple, her aura blazing violently—but the moment she tried to strike, the pressure hit her like a tidal wave.
---
CRACK!
Her aura flickered violently and shattered.
The purple energy surrounding her dissipated, leaving her raw fists exposed.
The ground beneath her feet cracked as if it had been struck by an earthquake.
---
Kael stumbled back, shielding his eyes.
"…This… this is impossible," he muttered.
"Even her… her energy…"
---
Shota's voice boomed, cutting through the ringing air:
"Do you see now? Pride crushes all. Strength without wisdom is meaningless!"
---
Lira coughed, blood at the corner of her mouth.
Her fists trembled.
The Mythril shards from her destroyed gauntlets lay useless at her feet.
Her every muscle screamed from resisting the magical pressure.
---
Shota descended slowly, deliberate, confident.
"Even if you survived before, now… you are nothing," he said coldly.
"The force of true power cannot be fought… only endured."
---
Despite the crushing magic pressing against her chest, Lira's eyes narrowed.
A small, dangerous smile crept across her face.
"…Good," she whispered, voice strained but steady.
"…Fun. Really… fun."
---
The air quaked with the tension between them.
The Dwarven Kingdom's forge, once a place of creation, had become a battlefield of pure, unrelenting force.
Shota's magic pressure continued to bend the walls, crush the floor, and push Lira to her absolute limits.
---
And in that moment, both knew:
The fight was no longer just strength versus strength.
It was survival… against the wrath of a force that could bend reality—and the pride of a general who would not yield.
---
To Be Continued…