In Eldoralth, grandmasters were the backbone of any war effort.
These were individuals of extraordinary strength, capable of single-handedly altering the outcome of a battle with their mere presence.
A single grandmaster could reduce entire cities to rubble in hours or face entire armies without faltering. Their abilities elevated them beyond warriors, they were living weapons.
Every race in Eldoralth, humanity included, understood their immense value. The number of grandmasters across the domain was significant but not limitless; they remained a rare and precious resource.
Each grandmaster represented decades, sometimes centuries, of rigorous training and experience. Losing even one was a devastating blow to any faction.
Which was why it was utterly shocking to see over thirty grandmasters fall, all at the hands of a single 17-year-old boy.
A rage-filled voice shattered the suffocating silence.