"Next is you," the red-robed old man said, pointing calmly at a tall young man with silver streaks running through his black hair. The chosen youth stepped forward with quiet confidence, his eyes calm but sharp like unsheathed blades.
"I'm Alaric Vane, of the Crimson Star Lineage," he introduced, his voice measured, almost regal in tone.
Without hesitation, he walked to the Ancient Dragon Scroll and stood before it, exhaling softly. As he locked eyes with the image of the dragon embedded within the ink, the temperature around him subtly rose.
His aura sharpened, and almost immediately, the first black orb emerged, then the second, then a third in rapid succession. The crowd's murmur quieted as the orbs continued to appear without pause—four… five… six… seven…
Alaric's face remained unmoved, his eyes glowing faintly as if he were seeing something others couldn't. Eight… nine… ten… the orbs hovered around him in a perfect circle, pulsing with increasing brilliance.
