The dim glow of the streetlamps barely illuminated the scene, their pale light struggling to penetrate the darkness of the night. Iris kept her gaze fixed on Damon, her resolve unwavering. Though his features were obscured by the blindfold he wore, she didn't need to see his eyes to gauge his abilities. He had agreed not to use magic, and he hadn't reached the first class advancement—victory was assured.
Her pink flames flickered brightly in the gloom, casting long shadows that danced across the cobblestones.
'If I win, I won't have to rely on what my father left behind… or worse, the pity of the townsfolk's charity.'
The thought steeled her determination.
Damon, on the other hand, stood relaxed, seemingly unbothered. Despite the blindfold, he could see perfectly, thanks to his shadow perception. The darkness was his ally, and the faint shadows cast by Iris' flames only enhanced his awareness.