Once-Proud Noble

The fight became a storm of chaos—fire crackling in the background, ash swirling in the air, and the ground trembling with each impact of Crow's massive club.

Aziz darted around him like a shadow, vanishing and reappearing in bursts of speed as he wielded his Bloodsword with precision.

Mal moved in tandem with him, snapping her jaws at Crow's arms and legs, her movements erratic yet purposeful, like a coiled predator testing its prey.

But Crow was no easy target.

His raw power and instincts were undeniable. Despite being outnumbered, he fought like a cornered beast, swinging his club with devastating force, keeping his enemies at bay.

Each strike left craters in the dirt, each roar echoing with defiance.

"Is this all the so-called Ghost can do?" Crow bellowed, his eyes narrowing as he swung his club with a speed that belied its weight.