The battlefield outside the clash between Valeria and Riven had never truly gone quiet. But as their fight intensified, a surge of energy rippled through the ruined city, reigniting everything around it like dry grass catching fire all at once.
At the center of this chaos stood Gregor, his long green hair whipping violently in the wind that twisted and gathered around him, raw, sharp, and dangerous.
He tightened his grip on his sword so hard that the veins in his hand bulged, his knuckles turning pale. His eyes burned with a mix of emotions he couldn't fully sort out: anger, guilt, something deeper that had been building for far too long and finally found its reason to break free.
Around him moved Riven's elite fighters, quick and disciplined, weapons drawn and movements clean from hours of practice. Yet as they stepped into Gregor's range, the air itself began to slice.
