Two elemental rings pulsed in harmony in his hand.
Ren stared at the ancient artifacts of power, a strange, quiet emotion swelling in his chest, a sensation he couldn't quite label.
Back when he was just a frail child bonded to the weakest spored beast in the world, a poor cook's son living in a small shack facing the plains, he had never dreamed he would one day stand in the shadow of ancient legends like King Dragarion.
Yet here he was.
An elemental guardian slain by his hand alone, backed by the terrifying realization that he had achieved it without relying on a single ally.
He drew a sharp breath, shaking the sentimentality from his mind. He closed his fingers and moved his hand away.
There was no time to waste on nostalgia. He needed to return to the city immediately.
Ren knew the energy signature of his fight had been loud. A beacon in the dark.
