The pressure was immense. Moore could feel it pressing against his ancient bones, testing the limits of his power. Around him, the young competitors were struggling—Lysandra's flames flickering, Theron's ice cracking, Kael's teleports becoming shorter and more frantic.
Moore raised his voice, cutting through the oppressive weight.
"Remember your training!"
His words carried a subtle magic—not enough to counter Dagon's presence, but enough to focus minds, to cut through fear.
"Lysandra! What's the first rule of fire against overwhelming force?"
The girl's eyes snapped to him, her jaw tight with effort. "Don't match power. Match strategy."
"Then stop trying to burn him and start thinking about what you can burn around him!"
Understanding flickered in her eyes. Her flames shifted—no longer directed at Dagon himself, but at the ground beneath him, the air around him, creating barriers of heat that distorted vision and limited movement.
"Theron! Ice against a god?"
