Arthur didn't slow. His claws tore through the flames, scattering the inferno like mere smoke. The dragon's breath steamed with molten fury, his blue eyes locked on Airo's retreat.
The wyrmfolk scrambled backward, drawing his sword defensively. He channeled his strength into the blade, imbuing it with his mana. The blade hissed and sparked, the faintly glowing runes across its surface barely steady under the strain of his fright.
Airo felt the searing flames lick at his clothes, the fabric igniting in an instant. Panic surged as the fire began to consume him. He dropped to the ground, rolling with frantic urgency, smothering the embers as his mind raced for a countermeasure.
With a sharp motion of his hands, he summoned jagged ice spikes from the volatile air above him. The frosty shards formed rapidly, glinting dangerously, before crashing down.
