slow grin tugged at the corner of your lips. "You know… it's not every day you get to fight a dragon." Your muscles coiled, anticipation thrumming in your veins. "This might actually be fun."
Azgor's satisfaction radiated through your mind like a smoldering ember. "That's the spirit." His voice dripped with dark amusement. "Just try not to break it too quickly."
Your fingers flexed. The dragon growled, nostrils flaring, heat rippling from its body like waves off molten rock.
"Guess we'll see if he lasts."
Azgor chuckled, a low and hungry sound. "Oh, I do hope so."
No matter the beast's towering presence, its smoldering fury, or the unrelenting malice burning in its molten eyes—none of it truly mattered.
Not to you.
The dragon was raw power, a force of nature, a living inferno wrapped in muscle and rage. But you? You were something else entirely. Something designed to face monsters like this and emerge victorious.
As you took a slow step forward, the bloodied sand shifted beneath your boots, the weight of the moment pressing down on the arena like a storm waiting to break. The dragon's growl deepened, a low and rumbling threat, muscles bunching beneath its scarred hide. Its massive claws dug into the sand, nostrils flaring with each labored breath. The embers within its throat burned hotter.
The crowd, once rowdy, had fallen into an uneasy silence. Every spectator leaned forward, caught between awe and terror, watching—waiting.
Azgor's voice curled through your mind, his chuckle was like the smolder of dying coals. "Now then, child… let's give them a show."