Such a testament proved to be even more true regarding the hubris of the third level combatants as one literally empowered by his ego rested alone in a corner. The large mutant was doing what he did best, being disinterested with the uneventful battles and mortal squabbling around him and focusing on an obviously more important task: grooming. At this moment his curved, goldenrod beak was hard at work within his immense wings as pitch as the night sky. Just some last minute preparations before he began his assault on anyone foolish enough to stand against him. 

Even seemingly lost in his own agenda, the Griffintaur's senses never failed to alert him of his surroundings. Those who believed him to be off guard would find that to be a fatal flaw in judgement. With a body inherently equipped for combat with his numerous weaponized appendages, he was ready to slash and bludgeon The competition until only he remained. And all for the hell of it, really. Even with this green sphere above his head, he likely wouldn't stay on this floor for long.