The air was blistering in a region far from the Adrastia Continent, but it was eerily silent.
A silence thick with terror shrouded the Cenotaph Wild Lands, where eight Neuronova Stage Ancient Ones formed a tight perimeter around a single man. A single man, whose outline blurred against the background of melting ground and warped space.
Achilles' main body stood at the center of it all.
His eyes moved slowly, almost lazily, taking in the mythical figures that surrounded him. A White Tiger whose nine tails burned with icy flame. A Royal Panthera Lion with silver fur and a crown of bone horns. A serpentine Dragon with molten crystal scales coiled high into the clouds. A high elf woman whose body shimmered with radiating arcane patterns, her gaze ancient and cold.
Atlantians…Phoenixes!
They were legends. The kind of beings spoken of in fearful awe, etched into the collective memory of civilizations. And yet they had come as executioners for him.
And yet, he did not feel fear.
