"Every wizard has their own unique combat style, their secret techniques that they keep hidden, and their ability to adapt in the heat of the moment. You never know what strange witchcraft the opponent might pull out next, or what unexpected method they'll use to break your attack."
"The feeling of dancing on the edge of a blade... the soul-level game... the despair of watching your opponent struggle under your power, yet forever failing to find a way out..."
Her breath became more rapid, and a strange blush rose to her cheeks.
"Too wonderful."
Jeming turned his head expressionlessly, looking towards the other side of the resting area in mid-air.
He had long known his senior sister's psychology was not quite normal—taking pleasure in observing the pain of others, especially getting excited when powerful beings are ensnared in pain.
But now it seems, as her strength grows, this "hobby" seems to be intensifying.
The scene in the air shifted Jeming's attention.
