The air was thick with tension as the two sides stood ready for war. The vibrant garden of Ketamran had transformed into a battleground, every inch brimming with energy.
Levan's eyes gleamed with cold confidence. "You know you're going to lose. You're outnumbered—four against three."
Despite the odds, Vianna smirked. "Outnumbered or not, we can still beat your asses."
Medas, his expression unreadable, stepped forward. "You seem to be forgetting one thing, Levan. You're in my territory."
At those words, the ground trembled faintly as the soldiers and guards of Ketamran marched forward in disciplined formation. Their spears gleamed under the pale light, and their resolve was evident.
While the rulers remained focused, Morvane had already slipped away, far from the battlefield.
The tension was palpable as each ruler took their position, power radiating off them like heatwaves.
