A dead silence fell over the square.
The shadow cast by Thanatos pressed heavily upon the hearts of the four Witch Kings like a tombstone.
That casually mentioned word, "obstacle," carried more weight than any Demon's roar. It echoed repeatedly in their ears, crushing their last sliver of hope.
The gemstone at the top of the Silver Staff in the hands of the True Silver Grand Chairman—a symbol of the council's authority and glory—flickered erratically before finally dimming into darkness.
His spine, which he had tried to keep straight, bent inch by inch under the pale halo emanating from the Soul-Trapping Lantern.
He remembered his impassioned declaration in the council hall not long ago: "Ionia must be ruled by Ionians!"
Looking back now, it felt like a resounding slap in the face.
In this world, after all, whoever had the biggest fist had the final say. They had just driven away wolves, only to invite in tigers and leopards. Now, they simply had no other choice.
