At once, his attire began to shimmer. The fabric of his uniform rippled, igniting into strands of molten crimson. His suit transformed into draconic threads, weaving across his arms like scales of living flame. The temperature in the hall climbed sharply — breath turned dry, and sweat beaded on every forehead.
Then his hands glowed brighter — morphing into twin cannons shaped like dragon heads, their maws lined with burning light. The wings of ember-like feathers unfurled behind him, every movement releasing sparks that floated like fireflies.
"I cannot release my full weapon here," Caldier warned, his voice now carrying a rumbling undertone, almost draconic. "If I do, the room itself would crumble. The explosion of its blast rivals the eruption of a volcano."
He smirked faintly, glancing toward the students whose wide eyes gleamed with awe, their lips parted as if afraid to break the silence.
