Aranor stood there, unmoving, as still as a statue, with his sword raised and his eyes closed, as if he were in a trance, communing with Dontar himself. Rajkal, the necromancer, astride the ice dragon, prepared for a direct attack. He rose dozens of meters to gain momentum, and, like an arrow, the beast launched itself at the human, emitting a terrifying screech, aiming to tear him apart with its claws. Its enraged cry stunned everyone, except Aranor, who stood firm.
Facing his first great challenge as a hero, Aranor's entire life flashed before his eyes. He remembered the distant days when he was a mere mortal named Gabriel. His first steps, childhood dreams, and the moments of uncertainty and struggle that had transformed him into the warrior now wielding the sword of light, Antherion. Everything seemed so distant, and yet, every experience had led him to this moment.
The dragon lunged from the heights, its shadow covering Aranor. He did not know what the outcome would be, whether he would find victory or defeat, but in that crucial moment, a sense of peace enveloped him. He had come this far, had challenged his limits, and in that recognition, he found profound satisfaction.