[Moments Before...]
The earth pulsed in agony.
The clash between Strax and the Primordial Dragon reverberated like sacred thunder, making the stones vibrate beneath the feet of those still struggling to remain standing.
The sky was a separate battlefield—torn by flashes of mana and explosions of ancient essence. But here, among smoking rubble and broken pillars, the fight was silent, raw, and desperate.
Kryssia staggered, covered in blood and dust, her armor cracked in several places. Her shoulder bled nonstop, and her ice sword was now just a gleaming fragment in her trembling hand.
Xenovia, kneeling beside her, tried to keep a spell lit, but the purple rune pulsed unsteadily, like a heart about to go out. Her sword lay fallen among the rubble, out of reach. Her gaze was already dancing between lucidity and collapse.
They were surrounded.
Three draconic creatures surrounded them like sentient shadows.
