The ground trembled beneath Tiberius's feet as he readied himself for the next assault. His greatsword gleamed in the ambient light, the sharp edge catching a glint of moonlight as the dust settled from the initial clash. Beside him, Thalion, the elf master swordsman, stood tall, dirt smeared across his robes and a clear fist-shaped bruise marking his side, but his grip on his sword was steady. His eyes, cold and calculating, watched Canna with a determined focus.
Canna hovered above them, his expression unreadable, the air around him crackling with the lingering charge of his earlier attacks. The battlefield was littered with the remnants of his summoned undead army, but the real challenge had only just begun. Tiberius's chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, but he didn't let exhaustion creep into his limbs. Thalion, ever composed, lifted his blade and fell into his familiar stance.
