Alen felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he surveyed the group of adventurers before him. They had taken issue with his recent promotion offer to silver rank and were itching for a fight. Alen
"Move out of my way," Alen growled, his eyes locked onto the imposing figure of George, the leader of the opposing party. George stood his ground, his arms crossed in front of him as he regarded Alen with a cool detachment.
"I don't think so, kid," George replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "You don't deserve that rank. You're weak, and we're going to prove it to you."
Alen scanned the room, his eyes flickering from one opponent to the next. He had no sword, no weapon to defend himself with, but he had something just as deadly - his fists and his lightning skills. He felt the crackle of energy in the air, the purple mana that surged through his veins.
"Move aside!" he growled, his voice low and menacing.
