The creature's roar shattered the air like thunder, silencing even the rowdiest of the crowd. Its maw gaped wide, revealing fangs as long as daggers, slick with saliva that dripped onto the bloodied sand, hissing where it landed. Flames danced within its throat, flickering like the embers of a raging inferno waiting to be unleashed. The dragon's eyes, burning like molten gold, scanned the arena with a furious intensity. Chains still bound its neck and limbs, their heavy links cutting into its scales, leaving trails of blood that glistened against the vibrant red of its hide.
Then came the release. The soldiers tasked with removing the restraints worked quickly, their faces pale as they fumbled with the locks. The moment the last chain fell, they bolted, retreating through the gate as though death itself chased them. The dragon started shaking its body and spreading its limbs wide, its tail lashing out and carving a deep furrow in the sand. A searing wave of heat radiated from the creature, making the air around it shimmer and distort as though the entire arena were caught in a fevered haze.
It moved with the grace of a predator, each step heavy but deliberate, the ground shaking beneath its weight. Smoke poured from its nostrils, and its gaze locked onto you—intense, unyielding, and filled with pure, unrelenting rage. Its broken wings hung awkwardly from its sides, torn and battered—a cruel precaution taken by the soldiers to prevent him from escaping. The damage only seemed to fuel its fury, its every snarl laced with malice.
It roared again, this time in a guttural, ancient tongue, the language of dragons. You couldn't understand the words, but their raw, venomous tone carried meaning enough. Azgor, however, found the scene thoroughly entertaining.
"Oh, listen to him!" Azgor laughed in your mind. "Cursing them as cowards and worms. Pathetic, isn't it?"
The dragon's voice thundered again, a primal, seething challenge that reverberated through the arena like the tolling of a great bell. Its fury was palpable, a force as tangible as the heat radiating from its body. You could feel the weight of its hatred, sharp and unrelenting Its molten eyes locked onto you, blazing with a hatred so pure it seemed to sear the air. You didn't flinch. Part of you almost understood the creature's fury—chained, maimed, and paraded before a jeering crowd. But pity had no place here. It never had.
The crowd, remained eerily silent, as though the very presence of the creature had stolen the breath from their lungs. All that remained was the low, menacing growl of the dragon and the faint crackle of flame that lingered in the air. Even the announcer, whose voice had boomed so confidently just minutes ago, dared not speak now.
Azgor's voice, however, cut through the tension in your mind with a maddeningly casual tone. "Oh well, at least this one has spirit!" he said with a chuckle. "I think it's going to be fun. Just… don't kill him too quickly. We dont get a opportunity like this often, so let's savor it, shall we?"