Xyrazar, the Claw of Despair, towered over the battlefield like a colossus of darkness, his jagged armor gleaming in the flickering light of the fires surrounding us. His eyes, glowing with infernal red light, locked onto me with a predatory focus. I could feel the raw power radiating off him—an oppressive, malevolent force that made the air thick with tension. Every step he took sent tremors through the ground, and the heavy clank of his armor rang out like the tolling of a death bell.
The wound on my side throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of the damage I'd already sustained. Blood still trickled down my ribs, soaking into the fabric of my clothes. I wiped the sweat from my brow, tasting the salt of it on my lips. The pain was sharp, but I couldn't let it hold me back now—not when I was this close.
