Damien turned his gaze toward the southern sky, his expression hardening into something grim and unreadable. A chilling stillness settled over him, like the calm before a brewing storm.
His dark eyes, half-shadowed by the falling dusk, seemed to pierce through the horizon itself—as if he could already see the Blue Hammer Kingdom beyond it, and all the retribution it had just earned.
A quiet weight settled over the group.
Devrok and Anek exchanged subtle glances but dared not speak. There was something unsettling in Damien's silence—something lethal.
Even the Iron Dungeon Stronghold leader, a man who had weathered countless battles and border skirmishes, found himself holding his breath. The air felt thick with foreboding. His instinct screamed that something monumental was about to unfold.
He didn't know why—but a strange, involuntary sense of pity bloomed in his chest.
For the Blue Hammer Kingdom.
They had no idea what they had just awakened.
No idea who they had provoked.
