Fighting a Tyrant King

"That oughta change," said Cassius, his tone verging on sub-zero.

He stopped racing through the vast, empty desert, the air pressure carrying along with his movements blowing past his angled pose. The extreme winds whipped his hair into a wild frenzy, yet under the searing rays of sunlight beating down on him, his appearance only seemed to become ever more otherworldly.

However, in vast contrast to the radiance of the large sun hanging in the sky, Cassius's expression was akin to a sheet of impermeable ice. His equally chilling gaze fixated on the massive crowned draconic wyrm blazing through dozens of sand hills, its advance unstoppable.

It yawned its terrifyingly treacherous mouth to a degree where entire skyscrapers might just slip inside if the Gate weren't so barren.

It was under this very desolate atmosphere that Cassius released an icy cloud of breath, his sturdy figure settling into a deadly blade stance.