Surrounded by ten Primordial Wardens, the pressure pressed down on Aaron heavier than he had expected.
The air itself felt thick and charged, as if the very fabric of space resisted every breath he took.
Yet he remained perfectly calm, his expression steady and untroubled, eyes sharp with quiet focus.
A shimmering rift tore open behind him with a low, resonant hum.
Flameborn stepped through, his massive draconic form radiating full Primordial rank power that made the surrounding void tremble faintly.
"Three against ten," Aaron said with a confident smile, the words carrying a spark of excitement.
"Tell me you don't love these odds."
The Primordial Wardens moved without a moment's hesitation.
Four of them charged straight at the Abyssal Dragon in a coordinated blur.
Three turned their deadly focus onto Aaron, while the remaining three locked onto Flameborn with cold precision.
"Grey," Aaron called out calmly, his voice steady amid the rising tension.
