The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the secluded clearing not far from the grand coliseum. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew settling on the grass. At the heart of this stillness stood Charlotte, her shield resting against her arm as she stood motionless. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady, her posture unwavering.
She was deep in focus, the kind of concentration that demanded not just physical precision but an unyielding connection to the magic flowing through her veins. Tonight, she was alone—completely alone. No one to watch, no one to judge.
Her grip on the shield tightened, and with a sharp intake of breath, she opened her eyes. The training began.
In a heartbeat, her shield came alive. Ancient runes etched across its surface began to glow, pulsing with an energy long forgotten by most. The Divine Shield, a relic of elven craftsmanship, resonated with her movements as she transitioned seamlessly into the first technique.
