THUD. THUD. THUD.
The heavy echo of steel-plated boots reverberated down the stone stairs. Their rhythm was orderly and immensely oppressive, generating a low vibration that crawled straight into Roland's solar plexus. This was clearly not the lazy stroll of low-ranking prison wardens.
They emerged from the shadows.
Three figures clad in blindingly pristine white armor, complete with silver sun emblems engraved on their left breasts. Their postures were towering and resolute, their body language leaving absolutely no room for hesitation. These were the true heralds of death—the Church's Paladins.
The first Paladin, taking the vanguard, slightly opened his palm. Whoosh. A small fireball flared to life instantly, glowing orange and radiating intense heat through the cramped corridor. Fire Attribute.
The second Paladin casually twitched his fingers, and miniature cyclones began to swirl around his body, making his holy white cape flutter constantly. Wind Attribute.
