Lindarion's body trembled, his breath shallow as his gaze locked onto the abyssal eyes of the Black King.
A severed head dangled lifelessly from its grasp.
The others barely dared to move.
It was 112.
Her innocent brown eyes were still open—still staring at him, even in death.
A sickening chill crawled through Lindarion's gut, twisting his insides.
'No… this can't be happening.'
The Black King let go.
The head fell with a sickening sound.
THUD.
The dull, wet sound echoed through the vast chamber.
For a moment, there was nothing but the ragged breaths of the living.
'No… No… No…'
Guilt sank into Lindarion like jagged hooks.
'Why didn't I move?'
'Why couldn't I stop it?'
'Why?'
'WHY?!'
Then, his seemingly frozen body moved. As if breaking free from the ice.
"You're fucking dead."
His voice rang out, cold and absolute. A ripple of sheer killing intent spread across the battlefield.
[Shadow Step]
