Goosebumps. That's what they all felt as Greg stopped the descending giant sword with just one hand, his figure standing firm against the impossible weight. The wind stirred faintly around him, rustling his coat as fragments of aura cracked in the air from the halted momentum. And that expression on his face—calm, unreadable, as if what he did required no effort—left their minds spinning in disbelief.
Only now did they begin to truly grasp the nature of the monster they had challenged.
At that moment, they all felt it—death itself, no longer a distant notion, but standing close, arms wide open, waiting to welcome them into the void.
"This can't be happening," the swordsman muttered, his voice trembling with denial as his knuckles clenched around his blade.
Greg looked back at them with an empty gaze, reading the horror in their expressions with a chilling detachment. "Shatter," he said in the ancient dragon tongue, his voice echoing like a distant thunderclap.
