Creed stood tall with his arms folded, spear resting lightly against his shoulder, his cloak fluttering behind him in the cold wind like a flag of defiance.
Tierra stood to his left, one dagger twirling between her fingers while her other hand shimmered with grey.
Lilith stood to his right, her scythe balanced across her back like a silent threat, her sharp violet eyes locked on their opponent.
And that opponent was none other than Alan Snow, the cold prodigy of the Snow Family who had just taken a knee, panting, his hands pressing against the cracked ground.
Creed narrowed his eyes slightly. For a moment, he didn't speak. He just… observed.
He wasn't arrogant enough to pretend this had been easy. No, Alan had been far tougher than Creed expected.
The guy didn't just have a path, he also had an art. A real, personalized, devastating art crafted from his Ice Path, and that made him an entirely different beast compared to all the cannon fodder Creed had swept aside before.
