On the plain, armies clashed, and amidst the chaos, champions met.
Laine held the hammer with both hands, taking a deep breath as he silently watched Egil Steelbjorn, clad in blood-red plate armor, like the Blood God's descent upon the world, observing his tall and invincible figure, the spikes on the armor and the iron rings hung with skulls, among which was the head of Jules.
The Lake Fairy's divine chosen champion knew he must not be careless, or he would end up like those defeated.
And Egil was likewise scrutinizing Laine.
This young man stood about 1.85 meters tall, noticeably shorter than his own 2.4 meters. He wielded a golden Griffin Warhammer and wore an exquisite suit of plate armor, with the emblem of the Holy Grail Knight Commander on his chest.
The chosen champion of the Lake Pseudo-God? Just a warrior at the legendary peak, his aura unstable, indicating he was on the verge of breaking through, Egil thought.
