Joseph stood frozen, his confidence shattered as he stared at Fenrir.
"A pact is a pact, Joseph," Fenrir said, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. "It's over."
For the first time, Joseph faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. The weight of his own words—and the crowd's reaction—pressed down on him.
Fenrir, carried by Mary Ann's loyal support, left the square, knowing he had not only survived but won the people's hearts. The tides of New Portand were beginning to turn.
Lord Joseph stood in the square, his expression twisted with fury as the crowd erupted into cheers for Fenrir. The miraculous escape and apparent divine intervention had shaken the faith of many in Joseph's self-proclaimed righteousness. His flaming hand trembled as his arrogance bubbled over.
