Flames twisted through the air like dragons, snarling, snapping, each one zeroing in on a single figure sprinting across the battlefield.
Grugrim.
His boots screeched against the stone, barely keeping up with his momentum as a blast of fire tore past behind him.
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the ground just inches from his heels, and the force of it slammed into his back, nearly throwing him off balance.
But Grugrim reacted fast—he tucked into a roll, hitting the ground shoulder-first, and bounced back to his feet in one fluid motion.
There was no time to think.
Another surge of heat came rushing in from his left.
He turned hard—sidestepped, barely avoiding the wave as it scorched the air where he'd just been.
Smoke hissed off his armor, which was blackened, dented, and battered.
His chest heaved with effort.
Each breath he took hurt, as the air was too hot, like breathing in smoke straight from a forge.
Across the arena, Malik hadn't taken a single step.
