"You're really going to make that old fool face him?"
Elamenor, now standing, showed no signs of nervousness or hesitation. His expression was serene, almost indifferent, as if what was about to happen was just another routine event in his day.
James continued, still grinning from ear to ear, "Elamenor, my boy, go on and show that old fool why you're the Warchild. Remind everyone here why you're a force to be reckoned with."
Elamenor didn't need any further encouragement. He stepped forward, each movement precise and controlled, exuding an aura of quiet power that sent a chill through the crowd. The atmosphere shifted dramatically as he made his way to the center of the arena, where the master, Gale, and his apprentice, Alan, still stood, both of them visibly tense.
