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Chapter 78 - Ashes of The Weak Prince

The silence after Lan's command was short-lived.

The tent shattered.

Like a dam ruptured from within, the concussive wave of raw Spiritual Will erupted outward—crushing, grinding, suffocating.

The air had turned to lead. Screams tore through the night as half the soldiers in the tent continues to drop like cut marionettes, limbs spasming, weapons falling from nerveless fingers.

Men clutched at their skulls, bleeding from ears, mouths, eyes. A captain tried to cast a spell—his sigil burst in his hand with a wet pop. Another simply fell, eyes rolled back, choking on his own breath.

The survivors—those who remained upright—were the hardened few. The elite. Captains with blood on their hands, mages wrapped in glowing runes, knights bearing the banners of Solaris with pride stitched into their cloaks.

But even they shook.

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