The silver lightning rumbled and hissed around the two massive shields, but the Bulltor remained a mountain of immovable bronze.
Despite lacking the advanced skills or peaked stats of the Selvator's own elites, the giant held the line through sheer physical density and the superior material of the shields I had provided.
"A Bulltor?" The Selvator's eyes narrowed, flickering with a mixture of annoyance and recognition. His face fell into a mask of cold disdain. "Then this wall won't stand against me a second time."
I watched from the periphery, my heart thrumming with a cold, calculated rhythm. Even the Dragon youth was currently a non-factor, a pathetic sight as he clawed his way out of the smoking crater.
His golden blood—thick and shimmering—oozed from a dozen rents in his sturdy hide, covering half his face in a mask of defeat.
