Adam's jaws opened wide, and flames erupted from his throat—a wild, raging torrent that consumed everything in its path. Fire Breath, amplified by his Ouroboros Progenitor form, turned the air to plasma. The cobblestones beneath him melted, running like rivers of molten glass. Buildings that had survived the earlier battles crumbled, their wooden beams igniting, their stone facades cracking under the heat.
Croft's massive ice dragon form recoiled. The frost coating his scales hissed and evaporated, steam rising in thick clouds that obscured the battlefield. He raised a clawed hand, summoning a wall of ice, but Adam's flames bored through it like paper. The ice melted, then vaporized, and the fire struck Croft's chest.
The dragon roared—a sound of pain and fury. Blackened blood seeped from cracks in his scales.
But he didn't fall.
