WARRIOR'S ASCENDANCE

The rugged battlefield stretched out before me, its uneven terrain resembling a savage wilderness waiting to be tamed. I assessed every element, every contour, with keen eyes that sought not weaknesses in Fenrir's forces, but strategic opportunities to exploit. This battle would not be won through sheer brute force; it demanded a delicate dance of calculated strategic manoeuvres.

With a silent nod, I released the primal fury of our pack. With a surge of primal instinct, Lyra sprang forward, her small figure darted with swift and fluid grace, a blur of motion that defied the naked eye. In her wake, the warriors trailed, their bodies flowing seamlessly like a river of relentless determination. Together, they moved as a synchronized force, their steps choreographed in perfect harmony, akin to a pack of wolves in pursuit of their prey.

I watched from the sidelines, the warriors transformed into embodiments of primal power and untamed ferocity. Each movement was an artful display of lethal