Atticus. Ozeroth. Magnus. Aric. Zenon.
These were the five champions of Eldoralth, the ones who would represent the world in the Virelenna.
The Eldorians watched their backs with hopeful and dread filled gazes as they landed on the platform of blue and began moving toward the blue star. Right now, they were their last hope.
Their walk toward the star was silent. Atticus led with a serious visage. Ozeroth walked directly beside him, chin pointed toward the heavens.
Magnus and Aric followed behind, expressions impassive, battle intent drenching the air.
And lastly, Zenon, he was the only one with an awkward expression as he walked. He didn't know what to do with himself.
Atticus had chosen him out of the blue, and while he revered the boy, he couldn't help but question his choice. He was clearly the odd one here.
Technically, he was an Eldorian, Atticus had made him one after Jenera, but he was the only person from another race that Atticus had selected.
