Fenrir stood silently, watching as the massive hybrid drake roared and charged toward him without hesitation.
Its muscles rippled beneath its scaled skin, and its eyes gleamed with mindless rage. But to Fenrir, this fight had already been decided.
The drake was too predictable, its actions too wild and uncoordinated. There was no strategy—just brute force.
He didn't even bother summoning his companions. Instead, he activated Master of Illusions, letting a dozen false Fenrirs scatter around the arena.
The drake shrieked in confusion, swiping its claws at the phantoms, only to pass right through them.
Again and again, it struck, wings flaring and tail crashing down—but all for nothing.
Fenrir moved silently through the chaos, each step calculated.
The arena floor shook under the force of the drake's attacks, but Fenrir remained untouched.
He raised his hand and used Master of Earth, sealing off potential exits with thick walls of stone.
