"You leave me no choice!"
Behind him, a colossal phantom began to form.
It was half frost dragon, half magma serpent—the Drakemire partial manifestation.
Spectators panicked.
"He can't use THAT!"
"Stop the match!"
Aramith's voice cut through everything.
"I am not in any form of danger."
The place became silent, save for the crackling phantom.
"If you use that here," Aramith said quietly, "you won't be pleased with what I do next."
The certainty in his voice made the Keeper's pulse spike. He felt danger coming directly from Aramith.
He closed his eyes and stood suspiciously still.
Mozrael noticed his breathing pattern change, almost as if he was breathing for two people.
And Sylvia narrowed her eyes for a second, unable to notice what she felt was off about Aramith.
But Eryndor didn't notice the danger. He roared and lunged, but instead of the manifestation alone, he attacked with everything he had.
A geyser of ice erupted beneath Aramith.
