Baroque came down from his podium next.
The heavy sound of his boots echoed across the arena. It always did. For someone so large and steady, every step he took carried weight, like the ground itself knew he was coming and had to brace for it.
That shield of his, almost the same size as his body, rested against his arm like it belonged there.
Like it had always been part of him.
Watching him walk with it felt less like someone carrying equipment and more like a fortress deciding to relocate.
When he stepped into the center of the arena, the black smoke rose again.
And when it faded, what stood before him was an Undead Cavalier.
[BOSS BATTLE]
[BAROQUE VS UNDEAD CAVALIER]
The creature looked… wrong.
It was like a twisted, rotten version of Glenda's Herald. The armor was cracked and rusted, the bones inside barely held together by dark energy.
The undead steed beneath it snorted out gray smoke, its eyes hollow, its body stitched together by magic that refused to let it die.
