The sky split open with a thunderous boom.
Tyrant's arrival on the battlefield was not just loud—it was terrifying. Even the corrupted dragons paused at his presence, instinctively backing away as his aura surged like a black tide.
He stood at the center of the battlefield, his dark armor pulsing with veins of red energy. Each step he took crushed stone beneath his feet, and each breath he exhaled thickened the already-corrupted air.
"You brats have gotten cocky," he said, his voice low and distorted, like a dozen voices speaking at once.
Drake narrowed his eyes. "Don't let him talk. We strike now."
Valkor wasted no time. Flames exploded from his feet as he launched toward Tyrant, his fists wreathed in deep purple fire.
Tyrant barely moved.
The two clashed.
BOOM!
Valkor's punch met Tyrant's claw. The shockwave was so fierce it cracked the ground around them. Valkor was sent skidding back, but he landed on his feet.
"Tch. Tougher than I thought," he muttered.
