An oppressive silence followed Jake's revelation, quickly replaced by a rising tide of fury.
"How brazen!" One of the Soulmancers erupted in indignation, his spiritual aura releasing a shockwave that sent the tipsy rookie and Sank-Uk reeling backward.
The drunkard, already looking worse for wear, began to bleed more profusely from his nose before collapsing to the ground. Before Jake could even assess his condition, another Soulmancer loomed overhead, a massive black steel scythe in hand, ready to cleave him in two.
"Die, heretic! No one is allowed to disrespect our king, even if he's-"
Jake, still debating whether to dodge at the last second or let the scythe shatter against his skull for a dramatic effect, was suddenly robbed of his choice. Twelve of the other thirty Soulmancers mercilessly impaled their furious comrade with their weapons.
