As the morning sun climbed higher, it cast elongated shadows over the jagged cliffs and parched brush.
Dust floated lazily in the wind, as dozens of barrels aimed across each other,Arthur's Aegis-7, Ravik's Crimson Jackals, and Caelum's disciplined entourage.
Every man stood poised, fingers tense against their triggers.
One wrong move could ignite a storm of gunfire, staining the ancient stone pillars of the tomb with blood.
Arthur's visor glimmered faintly, his expression unreadable.
His silence weighed heavier than any weapon.
Caelum's eyes blazed with a mix of pride and fury; his posture was rigid, jaw clenched tight.
And then there was Ravik,ever-smiling,who seemed to relish this moment like a child in a playground.
His crimson scarf fluttered in the wind, his face alive with mischief.
Then Ravik raised a hand as his grin widened mischievously.
"Gentlemen," he drawled lightly, almost mockingly. "Why don't we all… work together?"
