The air rippled.
Reality itself seemed to hesitate.
A low hum resonated through the fractured space — as though the universe was holding its breath.
Shaurya turned slowly toward the seven elders. The world around him appeared to shimmer, bending under an invisible weight. A faint breeze whispered across the air, carrying motes of silver light that drifted like falling stardust. The remnants of shattered energy from the previous battle glowed faintly in the atmosphere, swirling like fireflies trapped in slow motion.
His golden aura shimmered along his shoulders — not blazing, but pulsing with quiet divinity. With a casual wave of his right hand, the space around him rippled again, as if existence itself awaited his command.
The elders instinctively stepped back.
The ground cracked beneath their boots.
