"They believe they have the numbers. They believe they have the power." Max's voice carried beneath the golden wave of arrows, calm enough that the dragons behind him felt their own breathing steady. "But before absolute power, numbers mean nothing. Before the might of my mana and the destruction of my magic, even gods would think twice before challenging me."
The sky burned gold above the ruined capital, the endless rain of arrows falling like shattered sunlight ready to bury everything beneath it. It was beautiful in a brutal way, bright enough to blind and deadly enough to make even veteran warriors feel their hearts tighten.
Max did not move.
He remained above the dragons with his black wings spread wide and his void blade resting in his hand, the faint golden shine on his skin still visible beneath the storm. His armies watched him stand there without fear, and under the weight of his words, their blood began to boil again.
