Hearing Damien's cold declaration, the hearts of everyone present skipped a beat.
The words weren't shouted.
They weren't laced with bravado or desperation.
They were delivered with such chilling certainty that they felt more like a divine sentence than a human command.
Whoosh—
Carl Luxei let out a long, shaky exhale. The breath had been stuck in his lungs without him realizing. Though the young man standing before him was only at Iron rank—Iron rank!—the oppressive pressure emanating from him made death feel like a foregone conclusion.
It was unnatural.
It was terrifying.
A cold wave of despair slowly crept up Carl's spine, constricting his chest like an invisible serpent. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he struggled to formulate a coherent thought.
How?
How do I get out of this?
