Lyerin stood at the head of the gathered crowd, his eyes sweeping over the faces of the people who had been dragged from their homes and lives by the relentless apocalypse.
Some were weak and malnourished, others looked angry and defiant, but all of them were waiting with bated breath for the conditions he would impose.
Among them, Krisella stood beside the military man, her face hidden under the grime and exhaustion of survival. But Lyerin paid her no mind, not anymore.
He had more important things to handle now. He had a tribe to protect, and these people—these desperate, hopeless survivors—could be of use to him. But only on his terms.
His voice rang out, sharp and cold.
"First, if you wish to join my tribe, you must pledge your absolute loyalty. To me. Not just to the tribe, but to me personally."
He crossed his arms, with a dark and commanding expression.
