Silence reigned over the open field. No sound of breathing or movement disturbed the atmosphere, as the two opponents seemed frozen in a heavy wait. Lysandra stood exactly twenty meters from Klein, her feet firmly planted on the ground. Her long hair slowly rose around her shoulders, under the effect of the magical pressure she emitted. Her athletic silhouette was molded in a flexible outfit, which hugged the pronounced curve of her hips as well as the firmness of her chest without hindering her movements. Her intense eyes remained fixed on Klein's with a determination bordering on hatred. What she could not stand about him was this apparent indifference he displayed in all circumstances. He, for his part, remained motionless, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, and his face betrayed no emotion.
"Draw your weapon, Klein," she said in a clear voice that echoed loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I don't want an easy victory."
