The crowd stood frozen, their hearts hammering in their chests as Zhurthal's malevolent laughter echoed across the battlefield. His words, laced with a sickening confidence, clung to the air like a poisonous mist.
Even with the Golden Dragon restraining him, Zhurthal's overwhelming malevolent aura seeped through, pressing down on the spirits of everyone who stood there. They could feel it, the dark energy swirling around him, like the weight of a distant storm.
Those who had heard his words began to shudder, a primal fear gripping their souls. It wasn't just the promise of destruction, the inevitability he spoke of—it was the absolute certainty in his voice.
The idea that there was something coming, something none of them could fight, something far worse than the war they had just survived, sank deep into their bones. They could hardly breathe.
But then, cutting through the oppressive silence, came a sound none had expected.
Amael chuckled. "Heh."
