"
AGGGHHHHHRRR!"
Atila unleashed a ferocious roar of rage and defiance as he slammed his massive, chipped sword into the ground. The weapon sank deep into the cracked earth before a monumental eruption of solar fire surged forth from beneath, generating an explosion that sent scalding flames and molten rock in all directions.
The inferno wasn't just an expression of brute force—it was a strategic counter. The surging fire incinerated the hundreds of energy swords that had closed in from every side to impale him, negating what should have been a sure-kill blow.
Vlad's narrowed eyes gleamed with calculated admiration. That level of situational awareness—using the terrain itself to augment an ability—was no trivial feat. It was the sign of a master combatant, someone whose battle instincts were honed over millennia. But admiration had no place on a battlefield.
