The clapping continued, echoing through the desolate landscape, once, twice, slow and deliberate. Each sound carried a weight that thickened the air around her. This wasn't applause for victory, it felt like something far more sinister, mockery, recognition, ownership.
Valeria tightened her grip on her sword but remained motionless. Her body was still recovering, muscles screamed from exhaustion, mana circulation was unstable after consuming the Lion's blood, and her wounds were only partially healed. Yet instinct kicked in where strength faltered.
Her feet anchored into the cracked earth as she straightened her shoulders despite the pain, angling her blade slightly downward, not for attack but in preparation for movement.
