Something inside of Theron roared. Baring its teeth to the world, it pulled on the rays of the sun, separating the darkened clouds of the Umbra Province.
Mana surged as the stars touched the ground, rainbow and light mixing into one as though to hail the arrival of a god amongst men.
Theron took a step in the air, and the winds beneath his feet trembled like solid ground as a giant's gait swayed. Veins popped along his forearm as his grip tightened, and then he struck out.
Dark and Water Mana pooled, forming into a cyclone of deep indigo colors that surged forward and met the Merchant King's oncoming fist.
But at that moment, Theron wasn't seeing the fist, nor even his opponent. It was like he was staring into a monument, a figment of his imagination—one that he wanted to tear down and rip to shreds.
For there to be someone who dared to call themselves King in his presence…
Unacceptable.
BOOM.
