The Three-Percent Dragon Pit

**Wait. I've seen that wall positioning before.** Elder Drake fell to five thousand health. Chenzhou did not move. Three thousand. Still nothing. The enemy jungler held Smite. Their support planted the final ward outside the pit while top lane turned to push Wanzhao's group away. Elder fell to eighteen hundred. The System only promised that the route was possible. It did not explain how to make possibility real. That timing belonged to Chenzhou. The enemy marksman's fourth bolt would critically strike. Elder's roar had briefly lowered its defenses. The jungler's Smite dealt twelve hundred damage, and the man habitually combined it with an ability at fifteen hundred. Between the two packets of damage lay less than a tenth of a second.