The chaos in the cavern was deafening: the clash of weapons against an unyielding shell, the roar of the crab beast, the labored breaths of soldiers, and the rattle of empty ammunition clips.
But above it all, a singular, commanding voice cut through, its tone calm, almost indifferent.
"Enough," Lyerin called, stepping forward with a deliberate, unhurried pace.
The word rippled through the soldiers like a shockwave.
They stumbled back, drenched in sweat and blood, their weapons lowered as they turned to him.
For a moment, they simply stared, bewilderment mingling with hope. Could he truly stop this nightmare?
Lyerin's eyes, cold and calculating, flicked to the beast. "My turn."
With a single, fluid motion, he raised one hand. His fingers moved through the air with a practiced grace, weaving patterns of power.
The pig Orcs at his side, who had stood silent and watchful during the battle, suddenly came to life.
