The swamp seemed to hold its breath, the mist curling around the Septet like a living thing. Dralo’s massive form towered before them, his amber eyes calm yet sharp, radiating an unshakable authority. The hum of the bog was subdued, as if waiting for what was to come.
“But before that…” Dralo’s deep, resonant voice cut through the silence, carrying both weight and deliberation. He paused, letting his words settle over them, heavy and deliberate. “You all will have to convince me to hand it over to you… by dueling with me.”
The Septet exchanged stunned glances. Elynora’s golden whip-blades twitched nervously in her hands. Ragna’s fiery twin-blade glaive flared faintly, as if responding to his rising tension. Even the usually unshakable David’s hammer hummed faintly with anticipation.
“Yo
