Vulkris loomed above the battlefield, its monstrous form crackling with the fury of a world long buried.
It tilted its colossal head, golden eyes narrowing with cruel amusement as it watched the battered group attempt to regroup near the open portal.
"Going somewhere, Elarya?" it rumbled, voice deep and mocking—like mountains grinding against each other.
FLAP!
With a single flap of its titanic wings, the atmosphere shattered.
A searing cyclone of raw power erupted outward, blasting through the battlefield like a tempest from the depths of the earth. The gust hit the group like a hammer forged from chaos itself, launching them away from the portal and toward the cliffside.
Elarya, Rhiki, Kardel, Auren—all flung back like dolls in the wake of a god's tantrum.
But the worst hit of them all was Auren.
