The Greenridge League tournament loomed closer.
Every fighter, seasoned and novice alike, was preparing for the battles ahead, each with their own rituals, their own way of dealing with the pressure.
The city buzzed with excitement, the tournament drawing closer with each passing hour.
Eratz sat on a log in the quiet forest, the cool night air brushing against his skin.
Around him, his three aces rested.
Eratz stretched his legs out in front of him and thought to himself.
"Four beasts... out of a thousand," he mused, his voice quiet but full of amusement. "You'd think I'd have more favorites by now."
He wasn't disappointed, though. These four, the Thunder Lycaon, the Aetheri, the Terrakrus, and Raijinara, were more than just beasts.
They were reflections of him, each carrying a piece of his personality.
