The circle of elders shifted, their faces carved with old worry and deeper thought. Trollen's eyes veined with luminous green, turned to Elyrra, voice low but pressing.
"Elyrra, you cannot possibly be considering his request to defeat the wyvern? He is a measly E-rank that has eyes for a C+ rank beast. This is beyond insanity…"
Ghranak stirred from his silence, "The Nest does not forgive hubris, Slitmother. Nor does it forgive ignorance of the tides around us."
Elyrra's gaze did not waver, "Yet when he was found, do you remember the report of the scene at the arena? Three corpses surrounded him — D-rank beasts, all slain. He bore wounds, yes, but he stood."
She took a breath, the memory vivid behind her mask, "He said he is E-rank, but I believe his true strength lies deeper. Something in him pushes past the bindings of our ranks and measures. Whether it's instinct, fate, or madness — we must acknowledge that what he did should have been impossible."
