The stench of blood and ozone still clung to Nero's armor as the surviving adventurers stared at him with a mix of terror and reverence.
*Drip... drip...*
Draion blood pooled beneath his boots, the viscous fluid hissing slightly as it reacted with the dungeon's ambient mana.
The massive corpse behind him continued twitching occasionally, its death throes finally settling into stillness.
"You..."
The scarred party leader finally found his voice.
A grizzled bear of a man, easily 6'3" with an eyepatch covering his left socket and more scars than intact skin decorating his exposed arms.
His weathered face carried the kind of damage that spoke to decades of brutal combat experience.
"You just tore through those B-tiers like they were goblin fodder."
Gorrak's voice cracked slightly, thick fingers trembling as they grasped Nero's bloodied gauntlet with desperate gratitude.
"And then that monster..."
He couldn't finish.
