Battlefield.
No one was watching.
No one knew.
Ian wore a Wizard Robe and held a staff in his hand. Across from him, Cerys's pale-blue eyes were fixed on him.
"Senior, how do you want to compete?"
Ian looked at Cerys.
"I originally wanted to have a real fight with you." Cerys slowly opened her mouth, then paused for a moment before saying:
"But I've changed my mind."
Oh?
Ian was puzzled.
"Because I suddenly became curious—just how much of your strength have you been hiding?" Cerys looked at him. "You don't need to deny it. I just want to know how strong you are when you go all out. Can you show me?"
Hearing this,
for a moment,
Ian fell silent.
"Okay."
A few seconds later, he nodded.
Cerys moved a little farther away.
Ian took a deep breath.
His entire body's magic power began to circulate. His Transcendent Organ in its normal state activated, though this did not include Wind Wings.
But even so,
the Storm that had long since been refined to an incomparable degree on his arm, and had already reached perfection, slowly lit up.
Runes flashed.
Elements gathered.
Amid a roaring gale, a storm slowly appeared behind Ian, growing simultaneously in speed and size.
In the blink of an eye,
the storm's diameter reached five or six hundred meters.
But this was still far from Ian's limit. Under the effect of Wind Rhythm, the storm expanded once more.
Eight hundred meters, one thousand meters, one thousand two hundred meters.
The blue-black storm resembled the end of the world. Its violent power drew every wisp of wind element from the surrounding environment into itself.
The defensive runes at the edge of the battlefield activated automatically, flashing frantically amid the storm's tearing force.
Cerys's wind-element shield unfolded