The sword stopped at the back of his neck, the glowing blade hovering mere millimeters from flesh—not because some immovable force had physically stopped the decapitation, not because Byung had somehow broken free to defend himself. The weapon simply froze mid-swing, held suspended by the elf's own hesitation.
The elf asked sharply, her melodic voice cutting through the tension: "What did you just say?"
It was like she had heard something she wasn't supposed to but Byung's lips were never parted.
Byung was genuinely confused by the question because not a single word had escaped his mouth. He hadn't spoken, hadn't made any sound beyond labored breathing. Yet the elf was staring at him with intense focus, as if he'd uttered something profound or forbidden.
