"Hmph! How dare you rebel against your home!"
The harsh voice echoed through the silent battlefield, immediately drawing every gaze. While nearly every Viking present could fully understand Freya's choice, there was one who could not accept it—the middle-aged Lord.
His expression twisted in fury and disbelief, unable to grasp how events had spiraled so disastrously out of control. Everything up to this point had been a catastrophic failure, and he knew that if he didn't take decisive action now, he would face the unimaginable wrath of his Master for such a spectacular debacle.
But Freya did not flinch. She turned calmly, without any sign of fear, her eyes radiating the intense aura of an embodiment of sin itself.
"Antorus, Lord of War of Valhalla," Freya stated clearly, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "If you want to attack, then do it. Stop hiding behind hypocritical arguments to justify your false accusations."
