The room trembled.
Chiron calmly placed his glass down.
In that instant, a spike of stone jutted from beneath his stool, aiming straight for his heart.
But Chiron was no fool.
His entire form rippled—a distortion of cursed energy—as a serpent exploded from his cloak, coiling around the stone and snapping it in half before it could connect.
The Elf was already in motion.
He moved. But it was not with speed, but with control—each footfall summoning vines, stone pillars, jagged boulders, and terrain-born weapons.
Clearly, he used earth element, just like the priest Chiron had killed.
The elf's body was surrounded by a faint golden hue—true gold rank aura, refined over centuries of his long life.
This one was the real deal.
"Stonebreath Style: Verdant Prison."
