Apollo and other geniuses from the ten great clans also felt something seemed wrong with Drakins. His aura was chaotic, like it contained different origins, making it more unorderly and filled with chaos and destruction.
His arms remained folded, his expression unreadable, but his sharp blue eyes didn't miss a thing. His aura is layered with fragmented origins. A dangerous instability. If left unchecked, it might spiral into something worse than expected.
"You should all run away. None of you are my match," Drakin's cold voice echoed, a strange mix of excitement and menace lacing his words. Whether it was the surge of power affecting his mood or just his growing exhilaration, something had clearly changed in him.
Without hesitation, he launched his attack, unleashing a ferocious burst of power.
"Blood River of Underworld."
