Ezra stepped into the circle, and the moment his foot settled at the center, the platform beneath him lit up in a deep red glow. The light spread outward in a smooth motion, and a sharp wind followed, brushing past his coat and pushing lightly against his body as if testing his balance.
Across from him, the illusionary version of Stoke appeared.
He looked to be in his late teens just like the others.
Ezra's eyes moved over him carefully, not rushing, not skipping details. From the first opponent up to now, there was a pattern he had already begun to notice.
Looking closely… Most of these alchemists I have faced so far are all around eighteen to twenty years old.
Stoke stood still, his white hair resting neatly, his white eyes fixed forward. His build was slim, but there was no weakness in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were steady, and his stance showed balance.
He was definitely fit.
