"Are you sure about that, Strax?" Tiamat asked, her voice full of concern. "We don't know how many more might come. He could be playing for time."
Ouroboros frowned, his nails lengthening into sharp claws. "This entire city could become a dragon's lair."
Strax didn't answer right away. He looked at them with eyes filled with a white and black light. His expression was calm. Cold. But deep within those pupils burned something more primitive. Something that was growing.
"Go help Scarlet. If Ignisar was trying to contain Scathach, then whoever is behind this is still at large. Go. Now."
Tiamat hesitated. She didn't want to leave him. But she recognized that energy. That aura. Strax was no longer just fighting. He was becoming the battlefield itself.
Ouroboros placed a hand on Tiamat's shoulder and whispered, "He's angry. The kind of anger that doesn't share the stage."
