Facing the formidable presence of the transformed Damon, even Parkinson, with his own fearsome Bold, couldn't help but flinch. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his heart raced in his chest.
Though he assumed a fighting stance, Parkinson's body trembled uncontrollably, as if the frigid cold had seeped into his very bones. What he saw behind Damon was not the imposing black dragon anymore; it was an abyss of darkness. Within that darkness, a pair of blood-red, devilish eyes bore into Parkinson's soul. In that moment, he glimpsed over a thousand ways in which he could be brutally slain in this very exchange, each ending in an unexpected and gruesome demise.
The average fighter would have succumbed to despair in the face of such overwhelming pressure, but Parkinson remained steadfast. With his fists raised, he maintained his composure, though he felt consumed by Damon's dominating presence. He awaited the imminent battle with a resolute calmness.