Thick silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken hostility, like an invisible veil. The two teams stood glaring at each other, their gazes crackling with unveiled hostility. The leader of the opposing team, with hair like smelted embers, short yet wild, and muscles chiseled as from forged steel, stood with a grip clamping down on the hilt of his sheathed dark sword. His fiery eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Nyxander, aflame with an unbearable rage that was tearing him asunder a thousand times within his mind.
From the opposing ranks, a subordinate stepped forward, his crimson hair matching his leader's, though marked by a jagged scar cutting across his forehead. A huge blade rested against his back, its weight seemingly effortless in his possession. He broke the tense silence with a smirk, his voice dripping with mockery.
