The dragon moved.
It wasn't a mere shift in weight; it was a tectonic event. The beast lunged, its massive, clawed limbs churning the earth with a violent CRUNCH SLURP as it tore through the soil and stone.
Its target was the open expanse of the eastern market district, the killing field where Iris and Aurelia stood, caught in the most precarious position possible: the exposed, unshielded gap between the retreating combatants and the safety of the inner walls.
To the dragon's primal, territorial mind, they weren't people; they were obstacles in the path of its dominion.
Iris saw it. Her assassin-trained mind didn't scream or panic; it processed.
It stripped the terror away to reveal the cold, hard geometry of death.
'Threat assessment... Mature scale dragon.'
'Velocity... Accelerating...'
'Approach vector... Direct...'
'Capability set... Insufficient...'
