The intense spatial distortion left Red Dragon Gorsas momentarily dizzy and out of control.
It was as if the entire world was rotating, tearing apart, and reassembling around him.
When his vision refocused, his deafening roar stuck in his throat—he found himself in a completely unfamiliar environment.
This was an ancient and deadly circular arena.
Tiered, empty stands surrounded the blood-stained central platform like a cold stone jungle.
Above, the dark red sky hung low, like solidified blood, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression.
The air was scorching and dry, filled with the stench of blood mixed with the smell of rusted metal, assaulting his nostrils.
The entire space seemed too narrow for a robust giant dragon, making it hard to soar freely.
Almost simultaneously as Gorsas's form became solid, silhouettes radiating powerful auras descended upon the arena from all sides, encircling him tightly in the center.
