The eerie silence that followed the voice was deafening.
The sheer weight of its words and the sinister power in its tone left everyone frozen in place. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the world, replaced by a heavy, oppressive force that made it difficult to even breathe.
Soldiers, once proud and stoic, found themselves trembling. Some gripped their weapons so tightly that their knuckles turned white, while others clutched their chests as if the voice had physically struck them.
The voice had not simply spoken—it had pressed upon their very souls, shaking them to the core. Its tone was not just mocking but laced with malice so profound that it felt like a shadow creeping into their minds, filling them with dread.
The Emperor stood rigid at the forefront, his expression a mixture of controlled anger and disbelief. His lips tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. The insult, coupled with the grotesque "gift," was a blatant and unforgivable declaration.
