A group of twelve players huddled at the base of a foreboding mountain, snow drifting steadily around them.
The icy breeze cut through their clothes, making even their strongest members shiver.
Ahead of them loomed a towering armored statue, its massive axe planted firmly in the ground. Frost clung to the edges of its armor, and pressure radiated from it.
"Are we... supposed to fight that?" one male player stammered, his voice shaking almost as much as his knees.
The immense presence of the statue seemed to bear down on them, sapping their courage.
From within the group, a figure in gleaming armor stepped forward.
A cape flared behind him, rippling dramatically in the wind as if it had a life of its own.
His stride was deliberate, every step crunching against the snow with quiet confidence.
"No," the armored figure said firmly. "We don't fight it."
He stopped, turning to face the others.
