Zeke spat blood onto the shattered stone, eyes narrowing at Khael and his group as they stepped into the broken battlefield.
"You bastards… do you really think you can win against Sloth?"
Khael's silver-dragon scales glimmered in the ruin-light, his chest rising and falling with ragged defiance.
"What makes you think you three can?"
Zeke's jaw locked. "What—?"
Khael's voice cut sharper than steel.
"Stop being a stubborn shit and let us help you. You know you three alone can't win."
The words hung heavy.
Raiden let out a low whistle, then broke into laughter, sparks dancing lazily from his fingertips.
"Wow… that's unexpected. A kid his age… shouting at you, Zeke." He doubled over, wheezing. "Pft—ha! Hahaha!"
Zeke snarled. "Shut your mouth, Raiden!"
But before he could lunge, Kurozawa's gravelly tone broke through. His eyes were locked not on Khael's words, but his body.
"Wait. Look at the boy's form."
