Ezra
Adams let his gaze sweep over the hall once more, enjoying the quiet ripple of curiosity that spread through the crowd. His smile held a hint of mischief, a spark of something unexpected yet inevitable. His disciples watched with a mix of curiosity and reverence, each wondering if this could be a moment that would reshape the Primordial Chaos Sect.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Adams raised his hand. A sudden, profound stillness filled the room, the air thickening with a tangible energy. His fingers traced a pattern in the air, leaving behind faint lines of golden light that swirled into intricate, interlocking symbols. From within the depths of that light, something began to take form, coalescing like mist solidifying into stone.