Ivan laughed, his breath escaping in a burst of hot steam, a wide, feral grin stretching across his face. The heat shimmered around him, and for a moment, he looked less like a noble prince and more like a fire-born delinquent reveling in destruction. His dragonfire-forged sword pulsed hungrily in his grip, craving blood.
"Let's see how tough you five really are now," he sneered, his voice sharp and cocky.
He pointed his blade at the frost giants, his stance low and grounded. His eyes blazed with pure battlerage—unrelenting, unmerciful.
With a snap, his wings unfurled behind him like the blades of a god, the air rippling from their force. The ground beneath his feet tensed, groaning under the pressure. Jagged cracks spiderwebbed outward from his position, the sheer energy of his presence fracturing stone.
"True Dragon—!"
