The air shifted. A terrifying pressure pressed down on the battlefield like a divine curse. Dozens—no, nearly a hundred—Expert-rank soldiers descended in unison from the hovering warship. Their armor gleamed, their weapons hummed with dense mana, and their synchronized steps sent tremors through the earth itself.
Alden's grip on his sword tightened.
'This… this pressure. So many high-level auras all at once...'
Beside him, Charlotte's face paled. Even her usually sharp tongue fell silent for a moment as the sheer weight of the enemy numbers overwhelmed her.
Draven blinked rapidly, his previous grin from the win nowhere in sight.
Ava, already wounded, nearly stumbled as her knees buckled under the invisible weight of impending death.
Their instincts screamed one thing:
'Run.'
But none of them moved.
They couldn't.
