When chaos rises, he stands - unyielding.
Steel in his hands, fire in his strike.
He doesn't fight for glory, but for those who can't.

Strikes form the shadows, vanishes without a trace.
Every arrow lands with purpose. No wasted motion, no second
chance. Not a brawler, but a finisher.

Arcane power bends to will.
From calm incantation to sudden eruption,
magic flows - sharp, swift, unstoppable.
This is no illusion.
Knowledge is the weapon, and each spell rewrites the laws of reality.

In the silence between heartbeats,
blades fly from the dark.
Swift, surgical, unstoppable. This is no brute force.
It's precision in motion - every throw a promise, every hit, a verdict.

With sacred power in hand,
the priest is no mere healer.
Light becomes flame,
judgment cast with every spell.
They mend what's broken -
but show no mercy to darkness.
Faith fuels fire, and fire brings reckoning.

In perfect sync with the wild,
the ranger strikes swift and sure.
A bow in hand, and the sky answers -
a mighty eagle descends.
This is no lone hunter.
Every arrow is guided, every call answered from above.