lucoa's dragon form

Spheres of water formed around him, gathered from the moisture in the air, and he launched them towards Seraph. Sprinting as fast as he could, Seraph narrowly dodged the incoming bombs, each bursting like a water balloon when it hit the ground. The drenched ground would immediately begin to smoke as the sand was dissolved. Watching from the edge of the ring in his invisible state, Noah decided to investigate one such puddle nearby to test a theory.

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

He then charged towards Thera with mana radiating from the tip of his horn and flowing over him like fire around a meteor. Every footfall shook the ground as though he was made of solid steel, yet his speed was remarkable. Thera reformed one of her whips and swung it to the side, grabbing the ground and then using it to pull her out of Cain’s way. He continued his charge towards the edge of the ring. A magical barrier protected the audience from spells, but the spectators in his path still scrambled to move. They were right to flee, as Cain hit the stands like a runaway semi, smashing through the wall around the ring and bringing down several levels of seats. By some miracle, no one was killed, but that wasn’t to say there were no casualties. Not all of the spectators had managed to escape the destruction.