Rex stumbled into his room, still reeling from his visit to the Workshop. His mind refused to shake the image of Old Man Jace, how the frail, unimposing shopkeeper had morphed into a terrifying deity, a god of ice, his presence as cold and unyielding as winter itself. The moment Jace had subdued the robber, his icy gaze radiated pure intent, like frost settling on the soul.
A shiver ran down Rex's spine at the memory. He could still feel the oppressive weight of Jace's killing intent. "That poor robber… I bet he'll be scarred for life after something like that," Rex muttered, shaking his head and releasing a long sigh, as though trying to exhale the tension still gripping him.
Cronus' voice broke through the haze. "At least he's taken a liking to you. Consider yourself lucky to be one of his 'loyal customers.'"
