The air inside the simulation crackled with heat, the scent of scorched stone and seared metal thick in the confined space. Embers drifted lazily through the ruined corridor, a lingering trace of Irina's flames as she stood in the center of her defensive formation, golden eyes sharp and calculating.
The right wing was hers to defend.
And she was doing just that—holding her ground against not one but two attackers who had decided to team up in a desperate attempt to overpower her.
One of them was a tank, a broad-shouldered brute covered in reinforced mana armor. His sheer durability made him a menace, and the way he stomped forward—each step absorbing the force of her heatwaves—was infuriating. The other was a spearman, agile and precise, his long reach making him a constant threat from behind the tank's defense.
