Explosions and crashes echoed everywhere. Building debris and shards of metal littered the ground around them. Dust hung thick in the air, forming a gray haze that choked the lungs. In the middle of the chaotic battlefield, two figures stood firm, their bodies drenched in sweat and stained with blood: Sofia and Altair.
The Tyrant stood not far from them, its heavy breathing sounding like the thrum of an old engine. Its massive body appeared almost unscathed, though a few wounds from explosions and slashes marked its surface. But its strength wasn't the most infuriating thing—it was that mocking smile. As if this was all a game. As if they were mere puppets, here solely for its amusement.
Sofia's team and Raijin's team had fought with all they had. But now… they could only hold the line.
