Aurelion slowly pulled his fist back, the crackling lightning around it dying down to faint sparks.
He turned his head, his single eye fixing the referee with a venomous glare.
The referee, a stern faced Northerner, met his gaze without flinching. He walked into the center of the arena.
"The fight is over. You win," he stated, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"Now step away from him."
Aurelion's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, the rage slowly receding, replaced by a cold calm.
He turned to retrieve his spear but... as he bent down, he saw Emil's bloody, mangled hand still desperately clutching the shaft.
His nose twitched in irritation.
He looked at the boy, who was groaning in pain on the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"You..." Aurelion's voice was a low growl. "How dare you still—"
He gripped his spear and pulled.
But it didn't move.
