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Within the confines of the cave, an intense battle raged.
Zaith stood at the epicenter, a whirlwind of motion as he deflected strikes from all directions.
His adversaries, though numerous, hesitated to approach too closely, as if wary of his potential.
Amidst the clash of weapons and the crackling of energy, Crixus's commanding voice pierced the chaos. "Enough!"
His order echoed through the cave, and the combatants hesitated, their weapons held at bay.
Crixus's gaze settled on Startell, the elder brother of Gregor.
With a simple nod, an unspoken understanding passed between them.
Startell, a seasoned warrior with a calm demeanor, stepped forward, his sword glinting in the ambient light.
With a cold expression, Startell's aura surged, manifesting his fifth-level sword concept.
"You are skilled. I can tell your skills were not forged in a training room but in a battlefield. You eyes are leaking bloodlust," Startell said.
