Zerathul's eyes widened. For several seconds, he could only stare at the man clad in yellowish cloth, his massive body frozen in the air as fear crawled into him for the first time since the battle began.
This was not a caution or a calculation. This was fear, raw and undeniable fear.
The Gravebringer had felt dominance since the first time the battle here began. Absolute certainty, the control over death, time, over the battlefield itself.
That certainty cracked now.
The man's presence did not roar or crush. It did not bend nature violently the way the Dragon power did, nor did it twist time like Zerathul's own power. It simply existed, calm and final.
Zerathul's heart pounded hard against his ribs.
"This…" his mind raced, piecing fragments together. "This Dragon did not summon randomly. This is not an ally he summons from desperation. This is something chosen. This being is capable and strong."
The man's gaze settled on Zerathul, unreadable and steady.
